You Were a Photograph, I Was Your Kid
by coinoperatedbecca
Summary: [FINALLY Complete][Slightly AU][Falls After There Are Sailing Ships that Pass]. At sixteen-years-old, Jean Louise Finch discovers there are still new things to learn about her mother.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All of these characters and places belong to Harper Lee (may she rest in peace)—anything that is my own has been inspired by her.

A/N: Howdy, y'all! I figured since there was only one chapter left of I Want All That is Not Mine, I would start the other idea I've had playing around in my mind for a while (…a _long_ time ago I mentioned I was inspired by beauty pageants… this is it hahah!). I may be off a bit date-wise (I deeply apologize, that has not been my strong suit with these things) and I'm actually not quite sure if debutante balls were a thing in these days but I found the story idea to be just too good to pass up! So, if this is historically inaccurate I deeply apologize and still hope that this is an enjoyable story! Also, I was just super excited to post this, so there has been very minimal proof-reading done, so if I come across as a complete noodle I deeply apologize again!

-o-o-o-o-

 _Maycomb, 1942_

Jean Louise Finch hated Sundays, just as many other sixteen-year-olds did. However, while most of her peers hated Sundays because the following day meant another tedious week of school, Jean Louise hated Sundays because of church. Each week she sat wedged between her brother and her Aunt Alexandra (she still didn't understand why Atticus got to sit by himself at the front of the church) while the minister rambled on and on about why Maycomb needs to be a good bunch of Christian people and blah, blah, blah.

She felt Jem nudge her, making her jump (and Aunt Alexandra glare—she swore she heard her Aunt Louise snickering a few seats down). She shouldn't have been surprised, though, Jem _always_ nudges her when she dozes off in church (which happens far more often than Jean would like to admit). " _Behave._ " Alexandra mouthed to her niece and nephew, causing Jean Louise to scowl as Jem pointed at her as a form of blame.

Crossing her arms, Jean inched down in the pew ever so slightly so her aunt wouldn't notice. Her eyes instead focused on the glimpse of blue sky peeking through the window behind the minister, and wished that she was _anywhere_ but here. After sixteen years of going to weekly sermons, Jean Louise still could not understand the point of church. It was boring, the ministers were judgmental, and she could think of _thousands_ of better ways to spend an hour and a half than this. Despite her weekly pleadings, she was still forced to go to church every Sunday with her entire family, and was then forced to endure supper with her entire family afterwards.

The suppers weren't so bad—it was usually Alexandra who made the meal unbearable (just as she had with every other meal). But Jean Louise felt as though she should be granted the same freedoms that Jem had been given at her age—which included being able to miss those predictable Sunday family suppers. But she was a _lady_ according to Aunt Alexandra insisted, and therefore Jean Louise had different expectations placed upon her than Jem had at her age.

There used to be a time where if someone in her family even muttered: "this is something your mother would have done," Jean Louise would simply keep quiet and do what she was told. It was as though her mother was this invisible presence that served as some sort of driving force in her life. The mere mention of Eugenia Finch would compel her daughter to do absolutely _anything_ (Jem used to insist that if he said that their mother would jump off of a bridge that Jean Louise would do it in a heartbeat). But as she got older, she felt as though her mother's memory was growing more and more distant. She had only been _two_ when her mother died and she couldn't remember a thing about her. For all Jean Louise knew, most of what her family told her about her mother could have been a ploy to coerce her to do things she didn't want to do.

" _Jean Louise_ ," Aunt Alexandra hissed. "The service is _over_."

Once again, Jean Louise jumped and sighed in defeat. Sixteen years of not paying attention in church and she still hadn't mastered the art of looking like she was paying attention. Over Alexandra's shoulder, Jean Louise could see her Uncle Jack and Aunt Louise both smirking at her—she wanted to roll her eyes, but there was no way Aunt Alexandra would not see her.

It would be another twenty minutes before Jean Louise would be in the refuge of her home. After each mass the women from town would flock to Alexandra to engage in gossip (didn't the church advise against that?) while the men _always_ went to Atticus to discuss whatever legal problems they were having (wasn't Sunday the day of rest—it didn't seem like Atticus did much of that). All the while, Jean Louise and Jeremy would stand by the steps with Aunt Louise and Uncle Jack, forcing smiles and pleasantries to whoever came their way.

"Really interesting discussion on the impending rapture, wasn't it?" Louise asked, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. "I was really intrigued by what he was sayin' about the floods of blood coming to cleanse the sins of Maycomb."

Jean Louise gave her aunt an inquisitive glance. "Um, yeah," she said apprehensively. "Really interestin'."

Jack and Louise had erupted into laughter as Jem rolled his eyes. "You idiot," Jem said. "She knew you weren't payin' attention so she made that up."

Since the United States went to war on December 7, 1941, Jeremy Finch had become the most irritable person to live with. He wanted to go to war and fight the enemy and help the United States earn the victory they so rightly deserved (her brother's exact words). However, due to the heart condition he inherited from their late mother, Jem was stopped from doing many things including playing football and going to war. He watched as old buddies of him went off to war while he was stuck in Alabama, reading law just as his father had done. Becoming a lawyer had always been a dream of his—but that was before America had gone to war. Since then, it was almost as if her brother had become a completely different person, and Jean Louise couldn't say she liked it that much.

"Oh shush you," Louise said, swatting at her nephew. "Honey, if your Auntie asks the pastor was talkin' about vengeance and forgiveness especially in such crucial times."

"Ha," Jack chuckled. "If he talked about the rapture I'm sure we all would have paid more attention."

-o-o-o-

Supper was never held at the same house each Sunday, and always alternated from Atticus' home to Jack's home each week. Five years ago Jack had taken an early retirement and moved from Nashville back home to Maycomb, with Louise ultimately joining them. It was just a bachelor and a spinster living together—though much of Maycomb accused them of living in sin (which made the two of them laugh without fail every time it was mentioned). Jean Louise always loved the Sundays where they had supper at their house—when Alexandra was in charge it was always more stressful than it needed to be.

This week dinner was at her house, which meant that she was at the whim of Aunt Alexandra, who constantly having Jean Louise run around doing various things to make the dinner perfect (you would think she was serving the King of England!) while the rest of her family sat in the living room chatting. Sometimes, Jean Louise wondered how her family never ran out of things to talk about—besides the Sunday suppers they were _always_ seeing each other, and it seemed as though there was never-ending conversation, which Jean Louise couldn't help but to appreciate.

When they all sat down for supper, Alexandra looked at her niece and actually _smiled_.

"Auntie?" Jean Louise asked as everyone cut into their ham and potatoes.

"Yes?" Alexandra responded.

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, um, you're smilin'."

Atticus had placed his silverware down to flash a warning look at his daughter as Jack erupted into laughter and Louise nearly choked on her water. For once, even _Jem_ looked amused. Alexandra flashed them all a look. "Well," she said, her smile growing ever so slightly. "I have the most delicious idea for you!"

Delicious? _Who was this woman?!_

"Um, what?"

"Don't say _um_ Jean Louise," Alexandra responded quickly. "And well, I was talkin' to my friend Patricia who lives in the center from town and her cousin Catherine lives in Montgomery—"

"Zandra cut to the chase before your food gets spoiled."

"John Hale Finch, you stop bein' so spiteful!" Alexandra warned, looking cross once again. "Anyway, Catherine mentioned that there's a debutante ball happenin' in six months—"

After a few muffled noises, Jem finally erupted into laughter. "Auntie, I think you need to get your head checked out if you think _Jean Louise_ is goin' to partake—"

"Jem," Atticus warned before Alexandra could say anything. "Continue, Zandra."

Alexandra had been glaring at her nephew. "Anyway honey, I told Catherine you were the perfect age for it—oh! Jean Louise, it would just be beautiful! You officially becomin' a lady in society—it's quite the honor, you know."

Louise flashed her niece a look. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, Alexandra," she said, chuckling. "My mama made me and my sisters do the same exact thing and I must say it's much more stress than it's worth." Alexandra flashed Louise a look, as if Louise was going back on some sort of an agreement the two women had.

"I'm not sure, Zandra," Atticus said, locking eyes with his sister. "It just doesn't seem—"

"My mother did this?" Jean Louise asked her aunt, who looked surprised. It had been quite a long time since Jean Louise asked any questions about her mother. Slowly, Louise nodded.

"We all did," she shrugged. "We all got the poofy white dresses and went through the dinner and dumb little reception…I'm sure I have some snapshots somewhere…"

"See!" Alexandra said, trying to be as cheerful as she could. "Your own mama did it, and she was quite the reputable lady!" Louise rolled her eyes. "You're too young to remember but your cousin Ruth also went to her debutante ball in Mobile—oh it'd mean the world to me if _both_ of my nieces—"

Quickly, almost as if she had been possessed by someone who wasn't herself, Jean Louise said: "I'll do it." She swore she could hear a collective gasp around the table.

"Really?" Alexandra asked seriously, reaching to grab at her nieces' arm.

"Yes," Jean Louise responded.

"Are you kiddin'?!" Louise exclaimed, looking utterly baffled.

"I'm not," she affirmed.

"Are you sure?" Atticus asked, a hint of concern in his eye.

"Yes, sir." She said.

Slowly, he forced a smile. "Many years ago I remember your mama mentionin' she had some snapshots up in the attic, you can see if you can find them." He told her as Alexandra stood from the table.

"Zandra where are you goin'?!" Jack exclaimed. "Certainly you can't be plannin' this _yet_."

"Oh no," she responded excitedly, clapping her hands together. "I've got to phone Caroline—she owes me five dollars!"

Almost everybody at the table laughed at her, except for Louise, who threw her napkin on the table in defeat. She, too, stood up from the table. "And where are _you_ goin'?" Jack asked her.

"I gotta run home," she sighed. " _I_ owe Alexandra five dollars."

-o-o-o-

After Jack and Louise had gone home and everyone else had retired to bed, Jean Louise quietly climbed up the rickety stairs that led to the attic. She remembered her and Jem playing up here as children, hiding amongst the old furniture and other treasures that were hidden away. Once she got up there, she regretted not asking Atticus _where_ her mother's old snapshots were. However, she didn't need to worry for long because a few moments later she found two old trunks labeled _Eugenia Finch_ almost hidden in the back of the attic. She exhaled slowly, feeling slightly apprehensive about what she might find.

She wasn't sure what compelled her to say yes. To be honest, her mother hadn't been in the forefront of her mind for _years_ —Jean Finch had become a very distant figure of Jean Louise's past. Her daughter was aware of her existence and thought about her _sometimes_ but she never found herself missing or yearning for her mother like Jem did. But, when Aunt Louise mentioned that all of the Graham girls had gone to debutante balls, Jean Louise became instantly interested.

Maybe this would be the thing to _finally_ bring her closer to the woman she had never known.

Slowly, she opened the first trunk. Within it she found dresses, blouses, skirts and even slacks all folded neatly and smelling of musk. The first item on top was a creamy pale dress with little flowers printed all over it. As she ran her hands across the fabric Jean Louise was quite certain that she had never felt anything so soft before (how had it remained this soft after fourteen years?!). After she examined the different pieces of clothing, and determining that this wasn't all of the items her mother had owned (there were only about ten different pieces in there), Jean Louise noticed what else was in the trunk. Tubes of lipstick, hair brushes (with strands of blonde hair still in them!), a full bottle of perfume and half-empty jars of creams and lotions (all of which had been reduced to liquid by now). With unsteady hands she picked up the wooden brushes and gently set them on the floor besides her before opening the perfume and smelling it—lavender and honey, she determined. As though she was being watched, Jean Louise took the perfume and set it next to the brush before closing that trunk and going to the other.

The second trunk was stacked neatly with different journals—some were the inexpensive paper-bound ones students used in school while others were beautiful leather-bound ones that were tied shut. On top of all of the books was a stack of snapshots. Quickly, she grabbed for the snapshots and shuffled through them. She found pictures of who she assumed to be her mother, her aunts, Atticus and even her and Jem as babies! She couldn't find any from the debutante ball, but that didn't seem to matter to Jean Louise anymore. Laughing to herself, Jean Louise felt as though she had hit the jackpot, relishing in these snapshots she never knew existed. She picked a few for herself (one particularly funny one of Jem as a baby and one of her mother and Atticus) and placed them next to the brush and the perfume.

Next, she grabbed for one of the leather-bound books at the top. As she untied the string that kept the journal shut, Jean Louise wondered if it was her mother who had tied it in the first place. She skimmed through the journal, looking at pages full of unfamiliar handwriting. Finally, she stopped on a random page and read:

 _Wednesday, May 18, 1927_

 _I nearly died of fright this afternoon when Scout decided to attempt to fly from our porch steps, slicing her head open. Doctor Reynolds came and stitched her up, but it was still quite the terrifying experience—I certainly thought Jem was going to shout himself mute!_

It was her mother's journal! Scout gasped as she flipped through the pages, reading about the incident of her stitches (no wonder why she had a peculiar scar right above her eyebrow). She couldn't believe what she had found and found it almost hilarious that her mother referred to her as Scout just as everyone else did. She quickly found herself grabbing for all of the notebooks in the trunk (there were over ten in there!) and placed them all next to the other things she had found in the trunks. She found an old burlap bag hanging off of a hook, shook the dust out of it, and quickly shoved all of her findings in it before slowly making her way down the attic steps.

She wasn't sure what time it was, but she noticed Atticus' study light was on. That wasn't peculiar, her father was always known to spend long hours of the night in his study. What was peculiar, however, was the fact that he was talking to someone. At first she thought that maybe he was speaking to Jem or Aunt Alexandra, but she noticed that they had already retired to their beds.

Curiously, Jean Louise approached the study door, trying her best not to be heard.

"Jean," she heard him saying, making her even more confused. "Scout agreed to do the debutante ball for Alexandra…I reckon you could say I'm slightly concerned. Just please watch after her, wherever you are…"

Once she realized he was talking to her mother, Jean Louise stepped away from the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For the purpose of this story, I changed Hank's age/some minor details about him ever so slightly!

-o-o-o-

Jean Louise didn't sleep a wink that night.

She hadn't intended on staying up all night, but the stack of her mother's journals safely stacked in the corner of her room were just too tempting to pass up. She discovered that the earliest journals had started when her mother was ten. These entries were filled with accounts of different squabbles amongst the Graham sisters, different games she played with children in the neighborhood and the typical things that ten-year-olds wrote about.

That was until she reached that November. The month that Rowan Graham, her maternal grandfather, died of a heart attack in his own lawn. Jean Louise found herself gasping and becoming further engrossed in the journal as if it were some cheap novel she had bought at the drugstore. She found herself feeling badly for her ten-year-old mother, whose father died and was soon after shipped off to an all-girls boarding school in Vermont with her Aunt Louise. The entries became filled with chronicles of life at school with her sister and the various different girls she met there, her summers home in Montgomery with her sisters and her aunts and her childhood friends. Hours seemed to have passed by with a blink of an eye, and soon enough Jean Louise was opening up the beginning of her sixteen-year-old-mother's journal just as the sun was rising. Various times throughout the night, she tried to shut the journals and go to sleep, but her mind was full of the journals and what they said. As her mother became a teenager, she found herself laughing at the various stories she told about her and Louise, and feeling bad whenever young Eugenia wrote about how inadequate she felt whenever in the presence of some girl named Katrina (had Jean Louise ever met her?). She found herself wishing she could remember her mother's voice just so it would seem as though her mother was actually telling her these stories.

"Jean Louise!" Aunt Alexandra called. "It's time for breakfast!"

Jean Louise gasped as she closed the journal shut, realizing in just a short half hour she would be on her way to school. Sighing, she placed the journal on top of the stack of others and rubbed her eyes. "Comin'," she grumbled groggily before being overcome by a feeling of defeat. Quickly, she grabbed a skirt and an old linen blouse and threw them on. Looking in the mirror, she noticed her hair was askew, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Sighing, she figured this was the best she was going to get today.

She grabbed her knapsack from the doorknob on which it hung before throwing herself on a chair in the kitchen, where Alexandra was cooking breakfast. Cal had left years ago, at the insistence of Alexandra, and while Jean Louise had attempted to maintain a relationship with her old housekeeper, she found that the woman no longer wanted anything to do with the family. Jean Louise had been hurt at first, but after a while she guessed that this was the way that life went.

"You look like shit," Jem said as he grabbed a piece of crusty bread from the table, causing Alexandra to turn sharply on her heel.

"Jeremy Finch!" She exclaimed before setting eyes on her niece. "Oh my, you don't look well…" she said as she quickly approached Jean Louise, planting her bony hand on her niece's face, making her jump. "Honey get back into bed, now."

"Who's gettin' back into bed?" Atticus asked from the doorway. "Zandra, what are you doin' to her face?"

"Brother, look at her," Alexandra said. "She looks absolutely exhausted!"

Jean Louise almost rolled her eyes, but decided that if she had any chances of being able to stay home and sleep she better not. Her father examined her, his hands resting in his pants pockets, his pocket watch hanging out of his vest. She couldn't help but to think about him talking to her mother last night. How often did he do that? Was this something new because she had agreed to the debutante ball? Did he always do this? What else didn't she know about her father?

"Go back to bed, Jean Louise." He said calmly, flashing her a small smile. Simultaneously, she was filled with a sense of relief and guilt. Sneakily, she grabbed a piece of crusty bread (she was not allowed to eat in her room) and hurried to her room. Quickly, she removed the clothes she had carelessly thrown on and got back into her pajamas. She grabbed the journal she had put down moments before and crawled back into the comfort of her bed.

She opened to the first page, dated Friday, December 29, 1912.

 _Mama bought me this leather-bound journal for Christmas, and I was quite excited to move beyond the ratty paper-bound one's I've been using for so long…_

Before she could read any more, Jean Louise found herself drifting off to sleep, her face resting on the pages.

-o-o-o-

She wasn't sure what time she had woken up, but all she was aware of was her aunt crouching besides her bed, her face nearly against her niece's. When she woke up to see her aunt's piercing eyes so close to her own, Jean Louise nearly screamed. Instead, she scrambled up, grabbed the journal her face was resting on and quickly shut it. Aunt Alexandra looked at her quizzically. "What are you readin'?" She asked.

"It's my lab journal," she said quickly, not knowing what else to say. "For my biology class. I was readin' over my notes since I'd be missin' school today."

"I'm glad to see you were tryin' to keep up with your studies," Alexandra said, finally stepping away from her bed. "But you really should be resting. I just wanted to let you know I'm headin' to Stephanie Crawford's house for lunch."

"Mmm hmm,"

"I made you some soup, it's still on the stove."

"Thank you,"

"The milkman brought a fresh bottle,"

"Alright,"

"Your Uncle knows you're sick and says you can come over if you'd like,"

"I'll probably do that,"

"Do you need anything?"

"No, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive,"

A smile spread on Alexandra's usually stern face. "Once you're feelin' better we can start discussin' your dress and everything for the debutante ball!" She said excitedly, making Jean Louise want to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. "We should probably discuss which young man you'll be escorting—"

"Wait, what?" Jean Louise asked, slightly dumb-founded.

"It's customary for young ladies to have a date to these things," Alexandra responded, as though she was giving her niece information she should have known.

"Oh," Jean Louise said, nodding her head. "Oh, I totally knew that."

Her aunt didn't buy a word of it. "Well," she responded, patting Jean Louise on her head (her aunt had been acting very strange ever since Jean Louise agreed to this stupid ball). "I'm leavin'. If you need anything you can phone Miss Stephanie's house."

"Thank you, Aunty."

Jean Louise laid in her bed until she was certain that her Aunt was gone. The moment the door had shut, she scrambled out of her bed and made a beeline to her father's study. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for while she was in there, but she found herself curious as to _what_ her father was talking to last night. Was it the air? A picture? She couldn't helped but to be baffled by the entire situation.

She had always sought refuge in her father's study, ever since she was a young girl. It was lined with bookshelves filled with books of various genres and topics, his large mahogany desk and plush chairs were always favorite hiding spots of hers whenever she was feeling any sort of emotion. As she got older, her love for her father's office never faded. Quietly, she stood behind his desk and rubbed her chin as she scanned its contents.

There was a manila folder full of various documents that stuck out to her because of how he kept his place among the papers. At first glance, it just looked as though he was using a snapshot of trees to keep his place, but when Jean Louise opened the folder she quickly realized what it was—an old snapshot of her mother.

It was the picture her Aunt Louise had given her and Jem when she was seven. It was all four of the Graham girls, but Eugenia stuck out the most with her vibrant smile (she must have been in mid-laugh) and messy hair. The image was fading and fraying, as though someone had been holding it a lot. She remembered yelling at Jem one day when she was nearly eleven, accusing him of stealing the photo—and he accused _her_ of stealing it right back.

It had been Atticus.

She found herself overcome by the urge to cry. Not because she was sad over her mother, but because it was so evident that Atticus still missed her. Not thinking, she left his office, taking the picture with her.

-o-o-o-

After getting dressed, Jean Louise scurried out of the house and headed in the direction of her Uncle Jack and Aunt Louise's. On her way out she noticed the clock read 2:15, and couldn't help but to wonder where her day had gone. As she descended down her porch steps (the steps she apparently had dove from when she was just one-year-old), she heard someone calling her name.

"Jean Louise! Hey, Jean Louise!" Startled, she looked up to see Hank Clinton in Miss Maudie's yard, staring at her. She rolled her eyes.

Hank Clinton and his mother began rooming with Miss Maudie shortly after her house had been repaired from that fire so many years ago. His mother was an alcoholic (and if you asked Aunt Alexandra, she was what one would call a "loose woman") and died of liver failure just a year ago, leaving Hank alone in this world. While Maudie had been a big help to the young boy, she too was in failing health these days and Hank found himself with the dilemma of dropping out of school in order to take care of his mother and get a part-time job at the Jitney Jungle in order to pay for his room at Maudie's. Jean Louise couldn't help but to feel bad for him—he was barely two years older than she was and yet had way more responsibility than she ever had. Before his mother got too sick, Hank would spend his summers playing with Jem, Jean Louise and Dill.

However, Dill basically disappeared (he did write sometimes), Jem focused on getting his law degree, and Hank had to grow up—leaving Jean Louise to basically fend for herself.

"Hey, Hank." She responded dully. "Shouldn't you be weedin' or somethin'?"

"Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'?"

"Sick," she grunted.

"You sure do look awful," he retorted. "Oh wait, that's how you always look."

"You're incredibly charming." She said, rolling her eyes.

"It's just so easy when you're such a peach." He grinned (she couldn't lie—he had a nice smile). "Where are you off to?"

"My uncles," she replied shortly.

"Likely story," he teased. "I'll be sure to tell your folks that lame excuse if they happen to ask."

She scoffed.

-o-o-o-

From the moment Jack and Louise moved to Maycomb, Jean Louise and Jem were granted unlimited access to their house (as long as at least one of them were home), and it immediately became a safe-haven for Jean Louise. The home was just as eclectic as they were, full of books and trinkets and random things that always put a smile on her face. Additionally, almost every time Jean Louise came to their house, they were doing something strange—one time she caught her aunt climbing a tree in her nightgown trying to get in through a second-story window when Jack locked her out for being "too mean to Rose Aylmer." Another time, her and Jem were locked out of the house and were instead greeted by the sight of Jack and Louise carrying a piano down the street after having decided that they both had the urge to play one. Jean Louise didn't care what the rest of Maycomb had to say about her aunt and uncle—she found them delightfully strange.

When Jean Louise clamored through the door that lead into the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of them reading at the kitchen table. They were using stacks of books to prop what they were reading up, so that they could read and eat their salads at the same time (Jean Louise had to try not to laugh at them). Next to Jack sat Rose Aylmer, who simply sat, watching her owner (Jack swore she was more human than cat).

"Well isn't it our little truant," Jack said, not looking up from his book. "Did you need somethin'?"

"No," she responded, planting herself in the empty chair next to Louise. Originally, she was going to confide in Louise about the trunks in the attic with the clothes and perfume and journals as well as what she discovered Atticus doing last night—but decided against it at the last minute.

"Did you decide against the debutante ball after all?" Louise asked, smiling at her niece. "Because Alexandra owes me _ten_ dollars if you have!"

Jack glared at her. "You women are strange." He remarked before taking a big bite of his salad.

Jean Louise laughed. "Nome," she said, smirking at her aunt.

"Want some?" Louse asked, thrusting a forkful of lettuce in her niece's face. Realizing that she hadn't eaten anything since that bread this morning, Jean Louise accepted.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"So," Louise said. "Is there somethin' the matter?"

"Um," Jean Louise cleared her throat. "No, there isn't."

"Why did you hesitate?" Louise asked quickly, finally looking up from her book.

"She said no, woman!" Jack said. "You nearly jumped down her throat."

"I'm just checking," Louise retorted, scowling at him. Jean Louise couldn't help but to smile. Among all of the women in her life, she guessed that the one who was most like a mother to her was her Aunt Louise. It used to be Cal, but considering everything that has happened between them, she found it more appropriate that her mother's sister assumed this maternal role.

"I was feelin' better so I thought I'd visit," she shrugged.

"What was wrong with ya anyway?" Jack asked.

"Do you have a few hours?" Louise smirked.

"You're hilarious," Jean Louise retorted. "I was up all night studyin' for biology and I guess it took its toll." She lied, feeling slightly guilty.

Her aunt and uncle shook their heads. "It defeats the purpose of studyin' for so long if you wind up missin' school because of it." Jack said.

"I realized that, but thank you, sir." She said sarcastically as he grinned in response.

She didn't realize how long she had spent there until Aunt Alexandra called in a tizzy, saying that she had no clue where Jean Louise was considering the fact that she did not leave a note as to where she was going (she guessed Hank had since retired back inside, unable to inform Alexandra of her whereabouts), which meant that she was more than obliged to return home.

She ate a quick supper with her family, where Atticus and Aunt Alexandra spent most of the time asking Jean Louise how she felt and what she did all day and what Jack had to say about her illness (she lied and said that Jack had deemed her fine). After nearly inhaling her soup (she hadn't realized how hungry she was), she bade her family goodnight and hurried back to her room. After showering at what seemed to be the speed of light, she crawled back into her bed with the journal she had precariously hid under her pillow that now had the picture she had accidentally stolen from Atticus tucked safely within it.

 _Friday, December 29, 1912._

 _Mama bought me this leather-bound journal for Christmas, and I was quite excited to move beyond the ratty paper-bound one's I've been using for so long. Lottie_ (was this Aunt Charlotte?) _of course had made fun of me, having received a new vanity mirror for herself, but I found this to be one of the greatest gifts I've ever received._

 _Emmett had given me the literary magazine that's been sitting on the front shelf of the drugstore since summer, which I thought was quite nice (though Louise and I had read the entire thing two times the last time we were home while waiting for Aunt Bea to finish her shopping), but I think it was a thoughtful gesture. He also bought me…_

"Jean Louise?" Atticus asked, knocking on the door.

"Yes, sir?" Jean Louise asked as she quickly shoved the journal back underneath her pillow. Slowly, the door creaked open and her father entered the room. He was wearing the sweater he always reserved for home, and his glasses were falling down his nose. He smiled at her before he crossed the room, looking at the top of her dresser and the nightstand before sticking his hands in his pockets.

"How are you feelin'?" He asked, continuing to look through the visible surfaces of her room.

"Fine, sir." She responded. "What're you…?"

"Oh nothin'," he responded, quickly bringing his attention back to her. "Just lookin'…just makin' sure you were alright."

"I am," she smiled, and he smiled back.

"Well, good." He said. "Goodnight."

"Night, Atticus." She said as he exited the room.

As he left, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach as to why he was actually in her room. Once she heard the door to his study shut, she quietly crawled out of bed and stood in the same spot of the hallway as she had done the night before.

"…I'm talkin' to your wedding picture tonight," he chuckled, and Jean Louise instantly felt guilty. "I'm afraid that the old picture must've fallen out when I was bringin' the folder home from the office…but I swore I just saw it this morning…"

She couldn't listen anymore. She knew that she should have taken the photo from inside of the journal and give it back to her father—but how would she explain why she had it in the first place. Regrettably, she knew that she was probably going to have to keep it for a while until she could think of a way to sneak it back into his study.

Feeling like a terrible daughter, she crawled back into bed and pulled out the journal, this time looking at the image of her nineteen-year-old mother as she did so.

 _He also bought me a tube of hideous red lipstick and claimed that it was a new waterproof design. He insisted that I tried it on so that we could test it out, but I_ firmly _told him that I wasn't a stupid girl…_


	3. Chapter 3

As days passed, Jean Louise reckoned she should tell Jem about her discovery in the attic; about all of the old clothes and toiletries and snapshots and journals. She knew it would spark his interest, and maybe even cheer him up a bit. Even at twenty, he still had vivid memories of his mother and would still sometimes grow sullen whenever she crossed his mind. Maybe having these different mementos from her life would make him feel better, feel closer to her.

And that was the reason why Jean Louise decided _not_ to tell him about all of the things.

She guess she could say she was envious about the fact that Jem remembered their mother so clearly. While he had long forgotten the sound of her voice and the way she smelled, he still remembered other important things like her favorite flowers, how she'd constantly be humming and laughing, and various things she did with her children. He tried to explain these things to his sister over and over again, but it never had any effect. No matter what, Jean Louise could not remember her mother as well as Jem did. Eventually, he'd stop telling her these things, getting too agitated by the fact that his words bore no weight on his sister—almost as if he couldn't understand how feeble the mind of a two-year-old was—there was certainly no way she'd be able to remember Eugenia!

Sometimes, she hated him for that.

It was if her brother was unable to understand _anything_ in regards to her life. He lost his patience when she couldn't remember mama, he lost his patience when she couldn't keep up with him, and now he lost his patience at _anything_ she did—the fact that he couldn't go to war had made him miserable and bitter, and no matter what happened it seemed as though nothing could lift his spirits.

That was why she didn't feel any guilt when it came to hiding her mother's treasures from Jem. He had actually got to spend six years with the woman, knowing what she was like, what she sounded like and just how much she loved him. Jean Louise didn't have that. She didn't have the comforting embrace of her mama when she had fallen, she couldn't recall what her voice sounded like, and she had no memories of the woman at all. So these diaries and the snapshots and the clothing and everything else was _hers_.

Each day at school she yearned for the diaries, to see what her mother had been up to on that particular day. After discovering that her mother hadn't kissed Emmett when he gave her that Christmas present (she couldn't help but to feel a rush of pride for her mother), the entries once again revolved around her days at boarding school. Jean Louise discovered that her mother learned sewing and typing and other "useful" skills a housewife would need—but she also learned Latin and French (she wondered if she ever spoke those languages outside of school) and Medieval history and literature and other subjects that Jean Louise found herself wishing that _she_ could take. During the day she wondered what her mother had done with all of that information, if she had been able to use this knowledge once she was out of school.

When she wasn't at school herself or pouring over the diaries, she was spending a large amount of time with Aunt Alexandra talking about the debutante ball. It was going to be in September—a full six months from now—yet her aunt acted as though it was going to take place _tomorrow_. Jean Louise tried her best to be patient as Aunty talked about how her hair needed to be, the amount of makeup she needed to wear, the dress she needed, how she needed to find a date _now_. There were a couple of times where she nearly screamed in frustration, but she had to remind herself that she was doing this willingly—which meant she was completely at the whim of her aunt.

However, she found herself thanking her lucky stars that Alexandra's son Henry just happened to break his knee, dragging Aunt Alexandra away from the Finch household for two whole weeks. This meant there was an end to all the debutante talks and finally a chance for Jean Louise to breathe.

However, that also meant that nobody would cook in the Finch household and they'd all survive on leftovers, oatmeal and crusty bread until her aunt came back home.

"He-ey," Jean Louise said as she stuck her head in the backdoor of Jack and Louise's house. There she found Louise staring at Rose Aylmer in discontent. "What're you doin'?"

"Thinkin' of all the ways I could kill this cat," she mumbled, stamping her foot down on the ground—the cat didn't move.

"Why?!" Jean Louise exclaimed, sitting down at the table.

Louise shrugged. "No reason," she explained. "I just hate cats."

Jean Louise laughed and rolled her eyes. "Can I stay for supper?" She asked, trying to sound as pathetic as she could. "Aunty's gone and…"

"Of course you can," Louise responded. Her aunt looked at a stack of books that was sitting on the kitchen table and picked them up. "You're uncle's gonna kill me for cleanin' this up…" she muttered as she quickly brought them to the parlor. Jack was infamous for having stacks of books _everywhere_ and detested whenever they were disturbed. Louise, on the other hand, _hated_ when there was too much clutter.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"No clue," Louise called back before entering the kitchen again. "You know how he is, doin' what he wants when he wants to."

"Well what're you eatin' then?" Jean Louise asked, noticing that there was nothing currently being cooked. Because Alexandra cooked so often, Jean Louise couldn't help but to find it odd whenever someone _wasn't_ cooking.

Louise shrugged again. "I wasn't plannin' on anything," she responded, and Jean Louise couldn't help but to think of the teenage version of her aunt that her mother wrote about so often. She was portrayed as funny, fierce and mischievous and Jean Louise could see that nothing much had changed throughout the years. "I can fry up some tomatoes or somethin'."

Jean Louise watched her aunt over the stove, she certainly didn't make it seem as effortless as Aunt Alexandra did, but she couldn't help but to wonder if this is what Eugenia looked like when _she_ cooked. Did her mother even like cooking? Did Louise learn any recipes from her older sister? Certainly, they both learned the skill when they were away at school…

"Um," Jean Louise cleared her throat. "Does Atticus ever talk about mama?"

Louise turned from the stove with a look of bewilderment on her flushed face. She slid the fried tomatoes from her frying pan to a plate and set it out in front of Jean Louise. "What do you mean?" She asked as she quickly ran the pan over the sink before joining her niece at the table.

Jean Louise shrugged. "I dunno," she said, taking a bite of the piping hot tomato. "I was just wonderin' if he talked about her."

"Like what?"

"Like if he misses her?" Every night this past week, Jean Louise stood outside of her father's office when he had retired there for the night, and each night she heard him talk to the photo of her mother. She was half-tempted to bring this up to Louise, to see what she thought of it, but at the same time she felt as though she would be betraying her father if she did so.

"Of course he does, sweet," Louise said with a sad smile on her face. "I think he'll miss her until the day he dies."

That made Jean Louise's heart sink. Part of her knew that her father was always going to miss her mother, but the fact that it had basically been affirmed by her aunt made it even more real. It made her feel like her father had been sad these past fourteen years, and she wasn't sure if he'd ever be truly happy.

"Is that why he never remarried?" Jean Louise asked, her mouth full of tomato. Louise scrunched her eyebrows in response.

"These are very strange questions, sweet," she said, a hint of a chuckle in her voice. "And I'm honestly not sure how to answer them—your father is a very private person."

Jean Louise chewed on her bottom lip as Louise watched her, the look of bewilderment still on her face. "What was she like when she was my age?" Jean Louise asked, wondering if her aunt's stories would match up to what she was reading in the diaries.

"Your mother?" Louise asked in disbelief. Jean Louise couldn't blame her—it had been about four years since Jean Louise had asked about Eugenia. Jean Louise nodded. "Well," Louise said, picking at the food on her plate. "She was funny…she was kind of a goody two-shoes at school, she always did good in classes and teachers _loved_ her, which made it easier for her to get away with pulling pranks on our classmates." That seemed to have sparked a good memory for Louise, who paused to laugh. "She had a boyfriend, she did _her_ debutante ball that August…honey she was just a usual sixteen-year-old."

Jean Louise smiled at her aunt, and had expected such a response. At first she had a pang of disappointment at how generic Louise's answers had been, but then she remembered that _no one_ could be as specific as her mother's journals. As far as Louise was concerned, what she had said about her sister at sixteen was the fullest extent of what she knew. "What is up with all of the questions?" Louise asked. "You haven't asked these in a while."

Jean Louise shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all."

"Well, there's nothin' wrong with that." Louise grinned. "I've told you time and time again, I'll answer any question you have."

Again, Jean Louise wanted to tell her aunt about the journals and what she had been reading and all of the treasures she found in the attic, but decided against it. These would be solely hers, just as they had once been solely her mother's.

-o-o-o-

On her way home from Louise and Jack's house, it was inevitable that Jean Louise had to pass by the old Radley House. There had been no sign of Boo or Nathan or any form of life in that house since that fateful Halloween in 1935 when Bob Ewell attacked her and Jem. She had always been grateful for what Boo, well Arthur, had done for her and her brother and she figured that the best way to thank him was to leave him be, just as Atticus had insisted. In the years that have passed Jean Louise had heard rumors that Arthur had passed on, but Jean Louise refused to listen to that. Instead, she liked to believe that he was silently watching over her and her brother, just as he always did. Each time she passed his house, she always walked a little slower, looking to see if she could find some form of life in the house.

And as always, she didn't.

Hank was outside of Maudie's house again when Jean Louise came home. There were times were she'd see him out there so often she couldn't help but to wonder what the hell he was doing because there certainly could not be that many weeds. "Hey, Finch!" He called as she bounded up her porch steps. As he called for her, she stopped in her tracks and decided to approach him.

"He-ey, Clinton," she retorted, awkwardly leaning herself on Maudie's front fence. As she stumbled, he laughed at her.

"What're you up to?" He asked, watching her curiously.

"Nothin'," she responded. "I see your weedin' again."

"You know how Maudie gets with her plants."

He was right, Maudie had been very peculiar with her plants. "Do you, um, do you like debutantes?" She asked, instantly feeling stupid as the words escaped her mouth.

He stared at her, looking as though he wanted to laugh. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

She sighed. "Look," she said seriously, not knowing what was possessing her to do this. "I've agreed to come out to society in a debutante ball this upcoming September and well I need…I need an escort."

"An _escort_?"

"A date, you dummy."

"I know what that means!"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Will you go with me, dammit?"

"A debutante ball?"

"Yes," she responded, her hands on her hips.

If she wasn't mistaken, he was glaring at her, and she instantaneously felt guilty for asking him to go with her—he probably didn't have the money needed to go into this in the first place. An eternity seemed to have passed by in moments as the two of them just stood there, watching each other. "I'll consider goin'," he responded slyly, a smirk growing on his face. "If you go on a date with me on Saturday."

She felt her face flush. Saturday was two days away—she had no time to think. He continued to watch her, his smirk growing as her face continued to grow redder and redder. "What?" She asked slowly, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Go out with me Saturday and I'll think about goin' to your dumb ball," he repeated. Aunt Alexandra was not going to be happy.

"Fine," she said quickly, her voice sounding higher in pitch and unlike her own. "I'll go out with you Saturday, but you have to _promise_ you'll come to the debutante ball."

He shrugged. "We'll see, Finch." He responded. She wanted to scream.

-o-o-o-

When she entered her house she found Atticus and Jem sitting in the living room in silence, with Atticus reading his paper and Jem reading one of his law books. Neither of them looked up when she clumsily entered the room. "He-ey," she mumbled, throwing her knapsack in the corner of her room and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of milk. The kitchen was clean, causing Jean Louise to think that her family hadn't eaten dinner that night.

"Where the hell were you?" Jem asked, not looking up from his book.

"Jem," Atticus warned, his own eyes not looking away from the paper.

"Aunt Louise's," she responded dully, carefully throwing herself onto the sofa as to not spill her milk.

The three of them sat there in silence for a while, and Jean Louise tried to remember a time when it had only just been the three of them in the house. Aunt Alexandra had been here for years now, and the days where it had just been the three of them and Cal seemed to be a distant memory. It was weird now, and Jean Louise found herself wondering how things had gotten this way. Once she finished her milk, she carelessly left her glass in the sink (which Aunt Alexandra would highly disapprove of) and went back to her room.

After Atticus had come in looking for the snapshot earlier in the week, Jean Louise decided it'd be best if she hid the journals at the bottom of her closet, where no one would dare to look. She kept the one that she had been reading secured in a drawer of her bureau, where it was always waiting for her to come read it at the end of a long day. Once she shut the door behind her she opened the drawer and pulled out the journal before throwing herself into her bed.

 _Wednesday, June 18, 1912_

 _Louise, Hattie and I came home from school this past Sunday. Aunt Bea met us at the train station instead of mama since she was home helping Lottie with baby Simon. We of course got to see the baby, but I couldn't help but to think that he looked more like a boiled potato than a baby (I told this to Louise, who laughed, she never liked children that much). I watched Lottie with baby Simon and couldn't help but to wonder how someone could love another person that much…_

Jean Louise had to stop herself from laughing, especially at the remark about the boiled potato. She couldn't help but to wonder if that's what she thought of Jem and her when they were born.

 _Naturally, I saw Katrina soon after my arrival and naturally thought of all the other ways I could occupy my time. I wonder if it's normal to have a best friend who you actually hate (mama would kill me for saying hate)? She went on and on about how lucky I was the Emmett was so patient with me, waiting for me to come home from school instead of necking with other, prettier (she actually said_ prettier _) girls. I told her I didn't care what Emmett did and that he could neck all of Montgomery if he wanted to, and she looked as though I had broken the law…_

"Hey," Jem said as he cracked the door to Jean Louise's room. Not knowing what else to do, she laid on top of the journal.

Feeling a bit flustered, she looked up at her brother. "He-ey," she said, rather confused as to why he was there. Then she noticed the two pieces of bread in his hand—he had brought her dinner.

She smiled at him, probably looking overly excited by the fact that he was thoughtful enough to bring bread to her. But these days, he wasn't very thoughtful at all and these moments were few and far between. He furrowed his brow as he handed her one of the pieces. "I didn't know if you ate at Aunt Louise's," he explained. "And Atticus went to his study already, so I figured I'd check up on you."

She wanted to hug him.

"Thanks!" She responded, probably sounding like an eager schoolgirl. He scoffed and shook his head.

"It's nothing," he said before he left the room.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Once she was certain that he was gone, she pulled the journal back out and resumed what she was reading, as though she was currently engrossed in some sort of mystery novel.

 _Of course, I was obligated to see Emmett, too. On my first night home he told me he was invited to a party by one of his school chums and wanted me to come. I said that I would only go if Louise could, but he said that since she was fourteen she'd look foolish (and he said it was unhealthy how much time we spent together, which I found rather offensive). But I went anyway, and_ hated _it. All these people who I would've gone to school with were there drinking things they stole from their daddies and smoking cigarettes though they hardly knew how to. I was miserable, wishing I was at home in the comfort of my own bed. Once I told Emmett I wanted to leave he told me to shut up and put his cigarette out on my thigh…I'm beginning to wonder if there's any decent member of the male species._

For some reason, Jean Louise found herself beginning to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

At six thirty on Saturday morning, Atticus woke Jean Louise up.

She had awoken with a startle as her father gently shook her shoulders, thinking that something was wrong. Jem had left Thursday night for Abbott County to spend the weekend with his girlfriend and her family (Jean Louise believed her name was Abby but couldn't quite remember), and immediately her mind went to something bad happening to him. "IsJemalright?" She asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

"Everything's fine," he smiled. She noticed that he had placed a mug of coffee on her bedside table. "We're goin' to the office."

Sitting up on her elbows, Jean Louise quickly grabbed for the clock at her end stand in order to double check what time it was. "Atticus, it's six thirty." She said, trying her hardest not to glare at him.

He shrugged, a small smirk on his face. "I have some oatmeal ready in the kitchen," he responded. "Eat up and we'll leave in a half hour."

-o-o-o-

Before Jem began reading law, Jean Louise would regularly spend her weekends at Atticus' office doing different, tedious tasks that Atticus just didn't have time to do. It was the perfect arrangement – Jean Louise would get a little allowance for doing this work, and Atticus didn't need to worry about the more mundane details of his job. However, with Jem about to join his father's practice, there was not much need for Jean Louise these days.

That was why she didn't really mind coming in to help her father that Saturday morning. It had been a long time since she had been at his office, a place that had very much been like her second home growing up, and she felt oddly at peace calculating the interest rates that Walter Cunningham owed Atticus from a case _two years_ ago. As she did so, she couldn't help but to be surprised by how alarmingly high this bill would be.

"Atticus?" She asked, not looking up from her calculations.

"Hmm?" He asked. He was reviewing a brief he had written for an impending trial and also did not look up from his work.

"Are you _really_ gonna charge Mr. Cunningham _this_ much?" She asked, holding up the paper she was working on (though she knew that her father wouldn't be able to see the information on the page).

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, no." He replied nonchalantly, shaking his head. Now, she was _very_ confused.

"Then why am I doin' this?" She asked.

Atticus smiled at his daughter. "You've been spendin' so much time in your room doin' your homework that I thought it might do you some good doin' some meaningless paperwork for your old father."

She smiled back at him, though she was struck with a pang of guilt. Ever since discovering her mother's journals, she had been spending more and more time in her room devouring their contents as soon as she had finished her school assignments. She had read about the summer her mother was sixteen, how she still decided to go steady with Emmett besides the fact that he was not a nice person at all (Jean Louise never knew she'd despise someone she had never met), how Louise _hated_ Emmett and how Eugenia became a nanny of sorts for her nephew despite the fact that she wasn't sure if she even liked children (this made Jean Louise laugh). Sometimes, she forgot that she was reading her mother's words and instead felt as though she was engrossed in some novel that her classmates would read. During the day she'd think about these journals and her mother's words and count down the moments until she could finally read them again. She had barely known the woman, so she felt as though it was her right to delve into this world.

"That's fine," Jean Louise replied honestly. "Though I feel like I should be doin' something more … well, useful."

Her father nearly grinned and she couldn't help but wonder if he missed her presence (she'd like to think that he did). "I have some files," he said, slowly getting up from his seat. Her father was getting older and slower and it scared Jean Louise more than she'd like to admit. "That need some confidential information removed from them,"

After he explained the assignment that needed to be done they settled back into their comfortable silence. At lunchtime Atticus had gone into town and bought the two of them sandwiches and the two of them were able to take a break and eat lunch together. Jean Louise couldn't remember the last time the two of them had eaten a meal by themselves, and found herself feeling guilty once again.

"I'm goin' out tonight," she told him, shuffling the papers she had been working on. "So I probably won't be eatin' supper." She imagined him eating by himself and felt sad for him—then she realized that he'd probably choose to stay in the office all evening, and wouldn't even eat.

"I see," he said. "Will you be with Cathy and Frances?" They were two girls in Jean Louise's grade who Aunt Alexandra forced her to spend time with, though Jean Louise could really care less (lately she'd been comparing them both to the Katrina in her mother's journals).

Jean Louise shook her head. "No, sir."

"Do you mind if I ask who?" He asked. "As your father, I—"

"Hank Clinton," she said quickly, making sure not to look at her father. She knew Aunt Alexandra did not like the boy much, but she honestly did not know how her father felt about him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Hank Clinton?" He asked.

"Yes sir," she replied, feeling her face growing warm. "It's not a big deal."

"What will you be doing?"

She shrugged. "Maybe grab some supper, I'm not too sure."

"Why?" He asked slowly, making her want to laugh out of the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

"He asked, and I said okay," she lied. The more she talked, the worst she felt about not telling her father about the conversation she and Hank had just two days before.

"Alright," he said, shrugging. When she had gone back to her work, she noticed that he was still looking at her, a puzzled look on his face.

-o-o-o-

"Can you transfer me to Jack Finch, please?" Jean Louise asked the operator when she got home. When she had left to get ready for the evening, Atticus had remained in the office. Knowing that he'd probably lose track of time and stay in the office all night, Jean Louise decided it was best if she intervened.

"Hello, Finch," Jack said cheerfully. Whenever anyone in her house called him and he wasn't sure who it was, he'd simply address them as Finch. Aunt Alexandra _hated_ it, but for some reason it always made Jean Louise and Jem laugh.

"I need you to do me a favor," she asked. "But you can't tell Atticus."

"I'm doin' just fine, thank you very much," he replied sarcastically. "It was so nice of you to ask."

"How are you?" She nearly groaned, growing impatient.

She could imagine the smirk on his face. "I'm doin' just fine, thank you very much." He repeated. "Now, what is this favor that Atticus can't know about?"

"Well, listen," she said. "Jem and Aunty are gone and I'm not gonna be home tonight so I need you to call Atticus at the office in about an hour and invite him over for dinner. You need to act like it's a spur of the moment thing, and not tell him I called on you to do it."

Jack chuckled. "You know something? The man wouldn't take care of himself if it weren't for us."

"So, you'll do it?"

"I'll do it, kid."

"You're the greatest," she said before hanging up the receiver.

She couldn't help but to think about his comment about Atticus not taking care of himself. She wondered if he had always been this way, getting too caught up in his work to adequately take care of his basic needs, and if it was Eugenia who kept him grounded, kept him aware of what he needed. Then, she began to wonder what life would be like if she was here—for one thing, she knew that she wouldn't need to ask her uncle to invite Atticus over for dinner.

Pushing those pessimistic feelings aside, Jean Louise found herself focusing on what was going to happen that evening. She hadn't even seen Hank since that previous Thursday, and she had no clue what they would be doing that night or if he was going to keep his promise of being her date to the debutante ball. Sighing as she skimmed the clothes in her closet, she realized she had nothing that was date appropriate (was this even a date?). As she looked at black skirts and plain blouses, an idea struck her.

That flowered dress of her mother's that was in the attic.

Quickly, she found herself climbing up the rickety stairs to the attic and nearly running to where her mother's belongings were. Once she had the silky material of the dress in her hands, she knew that this would be perfect. Hank better appreciate the effort she was putting into this, damn it.

-o-o-o-

Once she got herself cleaned up and in the dress (it was a little tight around her bust, but she didn't care) she was actually feeling pretty confident about that evening. She had never been out with a boy who wasn't Jem or Dill before, and she found herself slightly excited by the prospect of what was to come. If things went smoothly, she was going to have a lovely evening _and_ a date to this dumb debutante ball. Things were turning out to be pretty good for her.

But then things went terribly wrong.

Hank's idea of a nice evening was a couple of roast beef sandwiches and a bottle of whiskey stashed in the back of the old car that he had borrowed from a friend that smelled strongly of tobacco and something else unsavory that Jean Louise couldn't quite put a name to. He then drove her to the Barker's Eddy, where other teenagers from the high school were hanging around and doing things that Aunt Alexandra _definitely_ would not approve of.

Hank took a swig of the whiskey. "Want some?" He asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before thrusting the bottle towards her.

"Sure," she said, taking a little sip of the tepid liquid. It burned her throat and almost made her choke. She remembered her Uncle Jack giving her a sip of his scotch once, and that was the day she had decided she didn't like alcohol very much.

"Your dress is nice," He remarked, ripping open one of the sandwiches he had brought. She had taken hers and carefully tore apart its paper wrapping, but didn't eat it.

She wondered if Emmett had said that to Eugenia nearly thirty years ago.

"Thanks," she said as she observed him taking another huge swig of whiskey. Taking her eyes off of him, she noticed people actually _skinny dipping_ in the Eddy—in April! She couldn't help but to feel disgusted.

"You look like Alexandra," he remarked, laughing. Her head shot back towards him.

"That's Mrs. Hancock to you," she said quickly. She wasn't sure what made her feel so defensive of her Aunt, but at the same time she was relieved when he thought she was joking.

"Loosen up," he said, nudging her with his elbow. "Wanna go in there?"

She looked down at the dress—her mother's dress—that she had stolen from the attic and decided that if anything were to happen to it that she would die. "No," she said firmly, taking a bite of her sandwich. It had too much mayonnaise.

"C'mon, Scout," he said pleadingly. She cringed at the sound of that childhood nickname.

"They're _naked_ in there, Hank. No way. No way in hell."

"Not all of them," he said, pointing in the direction of the water. "Some gals are in their bloomers."

"You're hilarious," she said dryly, placing her sandwich down on the seat. "No."

"C'mon," he said again, giving her a sly grin.

" _Hank_."

"Let's just go by the water," he said, winking. "I think you might change your mind."

"Fine," she suggested. But, when she got out of the car she began running.

-o-o-o-

"Scout, hey Scout!" Hank called after her when she began on her sprint away from the Eddy, away from the skinny dippers, away from _him_. She pretended like she didn't hear him and just continued to run. She ran so fast and so hard her lungs heaved and her eyes burned. It wasn't until she ran into Jack and Louise's door that she had a moment to begin to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin hot from all of the running, but it was a much better alternative than being at the Eddy.

Though, she probably didn't have a date to the debutante ball anymore.

"Well, ain't this lovely?" Louise chided as she stuck her head through the doorway of the kitchen. "Your daddy just left if that's who you're looking for."

Jean Louise tried to answer, but found herself still struggling to catch her breath. "Are you alright?" Louise asked, her joyful expression faltering. "Jack—Jack! Come in here!"

"Fine," Jean Louise panted as her uncle came into view. "Just…running."

"From what, honey?" Louise asked. "Did something happen?"

"Nothin'," she said as Uncle Jack gave her a strange look. She decided to add this evening's events to the list of things she was never telling anyone. "I just was runnin'."

Louise crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall. "Atticus told me you were out with _Hank Clinton_ and the next thing I know you're runnin' in here in my—"she stopped in her tracks.

"In your _what_?" Jack and Jean Louise asked in unison.

Louise began cackling as she ran her hand through her hair. "Are you kiddin' me?" She asked, grinning as Jack and Jean Louise continued to look confused. "That sneak! That little sneak!"

"Um, are you as confused as I am?" Jack asked his niece, who nodded.

"You're in _my_ dress!" Louise cried out, still laughing. "Oh, dear Lord!"

"I think you're having an aneurysm or somethin'," Jack said. "Because you're talking nonsense."

"Wait," Jean Louise said, almost laughing herself. "This is _yours_!"

"That was my _favorite_ dress when I was fifteen! Edie bought it for me for enduring an entire day of shoppin' with her and I was _so_ excited but naturally your mother was so envious of it." Her aunt explained. "I can't believe her—she is such a sneak!" As she referred to Eugenia in the present tense, Louise stopped talking and her smile faded ever so slightly.

Not wanting to let her aunt's mood damper, Jean Louise chuckled. "D'you want it back?" She asked, smirking.

Louise rolled her eyes. "Like that thing would fit," she laughed. "I got to wear it twice… I think I could pass the torch."

Jean Louise couldn't help but to love the dress even more.

-o-o-o-

Atticus had been in his study when Jean Louise returned from her uncle's house. She was about to knock on his door and let her know she was home when she heard him talking again.

"…Jem's gone for the weekend and Scout has gone out with some kid from the neighborhood," he explained, and she imagined him staring at the picture of Eugenia who was unable to actively listen to her husband. "I worry for both of them, Jean," he admitted, making the breath get caught in her throat. "I wish you were here to tell me if I'm bein' overprotective of them or not…" he trailed off. "I ate dinner with Jack and Louise tonight, I wonder if you can see how your sister is doing…she's still quite the funny girl."

She sighed softly and decided against interrupting him. Instead, she made sure to walk down the hall a little louder than usual so that he'd be able to hear her.

Once she got in her pajamas, she laid back into bed with her mother's journal – she was in the summer of Eugenia's seventeenth year.

 _Tuesday, June 24, 1913_

 _Emmett told me I shouldn't wear patterned dresses because they looked unflattering on me, so I decided to wear as many patterns as I can. I didn't tell anyone why I was doing this, but so far Louise told me I dressed like Aunt Sarah and Lottie told me I reminded her of a little girl. I don't mind, though, because I know it drives Emmett crazy that I don't listen to his "helpful" advice. When I arrived home two weeks ago, Katrina told me that I better do my best to make Emmett happy or else I would lose him but first of all, the last time I checked Emmett wasn't mine to lose; he is his_ own _person. And second of all, when has his happiness become more important than mine? I'm beginning to think that I've signed on for more than I bargained for, but I can't help but to admit that whenever he smiles it feels as though my heart swells. That feeling alone makes me want to keep him in my company, though I could do without some of his … "quirks."_

Before Jean Louise fell asleep for the night, she shoved the journal under her pillow. The last thing she remembered seeing before falling asleep was the outline of her father in the doorway. He must have finished talking to the picture and had gone to check on his daughter before retiring for the night himself.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Just wanted to let y'all know that this might be my last update for the week. My graduation is tomorrow so my family is coming to spend the weekend in my tiny apartment (I've had the place to myself this entire week so I have mixed feelings hahaha), and then next week my roommate is coming back to the apartment _and_ I'll be going back to my hometown next week, meaning there'll be little time for me to write. I just thought I should explain before it seems like I am off of the grid again, ha!

-o-o-o-

"Do you miss her when she goes?" Jean Louise asked her uncle. Almost as soon as Aunt Alexandra and Jeremy returned back home, Aunt Louise had gone to Montgomery to visit with Clara and Libby as well as Hattie and her husband. While Louise didn't leave Maycomb often after she moved there permanently, when she go back to Montgomery she was usually gone for nearly two weeks. In her absence, Jean Louise found herself not only missing her aunt but was also slightly envious of her—she didn't have to endure dull talks with Aunt Alexandra or the mundane life of Maycomb. She didn't expect Montgomery to be much more exciting, but at least it was a change of scenery.

"Miss who?" Jack asked. He was reading the book _Tom Brown's School Days_ for what seemed to be the millionth time ("I always find something new!" he exclaimed every time someone teased him). With Louise gone, Jean Louise was able to seclude herself at their house and read her mother's journals without any questioning from Uncle Jack (she simply told him everyone at home was annoying her and she needed a peaceful place to study her notes from class). Atticus and Aunt Alexandra were growing suspicious at the amount of time Jean Louise was spending in her room, and Jean Louise needed another place to take refuge in.

Jean Louise gave him a look as he put his book down on the coffee table. A smirk grew on his face as he chuckled, "I'm just jokin', kid." He said. "I reckon I do."

"Do you love her?" Jean Louise asked, carefully resting her mother's journal in her lap. She had always known that Jack and Louise were simply friends, but as the people in Maycomb increasingly harassed (as Louise put it) them about their living situation, the rest of the Finch family couldn't help but to tease them. Her uncle furrowed his eyebrows.

"Do I what?" He asked. The way he was acting reminded her of a young boy who thought that girls had cooties.

"Do you love her?" She repeated, smirking at him.

"Of course I do," he replied. "She's my best friend."

"Would you ever marry her?" She winked. The topic of marriage _always_ got him worked up.

He scoffed. "Sweet, there's different types of love."

"Ah, so like brother and sister?" She teased.

He raised his eyebrows in a way that reminded her of her father. "Yes," he said, nodding his head. "Though with her rear end I'm real glad she ain't my sister—"

"There are certain things I don't need to know," she said, scrunching her nose before picking up the journal again.

He rolled his eyes as he picked his book up. "Sweet, _you_ asked."

All she could really do was shake her head before returning to her reading.

 _Friday, July 18, 1913,_

 _Katrina and my replacement (Katrina's best friend while I'm away at school) Susana joined a stupid tennis club and they somehow roped Louise and I in competing against them in a doubles game this morning, which was a mistake on many levels. I'm currently sporting two skinned knees_ and _elbows and somehow managed to hit my right thigh so hard with my racket that a huge purple bruise has developed (all of these injuries are the product of my own clumsiness) meanwhile the entire left side of Louise's face is swollen – Katrina was spiteful when hitting the ball towards her; she's never liked Louise much._

Jean Louise couldn't help but to laugh to herself at this—she could imagine Louise fumbling on a tennis court and engaging in some sort of rivalry with another girl. She found herself wishing she could remember her mother so she could imagine the game in its entirety.

 _Emmett took me to the café after the game, though the dull throbbing in my body distracted me from actually having a good time. We got kicked out after he tried to place his hand on my knee and accidentally whacked where I had skinned it. I cried out so loudly my mother would surely be embarrassed. I'm quite sure someone she knew was there, so I'll most likely be hearing about this later this evening._

Nanny. Jean Louise smiled to herself remembering her grandmother. Louise and Hattie had told childhood stories of a mother who was strict and severe, but Jean Louise didn't have the same memories. To her, Edith Graham was the woman who allowed Jean Louise to romp around in the mud and wear overalls even when others told her it wasn't normal. She found herself missing the woman.

 _We ended up going back to Emmett's house after the ordeal—after a while I couldn't tell if my face was flushed from embarrassment or sunburn but decided it must have been both (I was spiteful and didn't cover my face like mama said, so I deserve this). Nobody was home when we got there and I remember mama once told me that she forbade me from being in a home alone with Emmett, but part of me figured she'd never find out._

Jean Louise had to stop herself from gasping—she had always heard stories of what an impeccable lady her mother had been, and never imagined her ever going against her mother's rules.

 _He told me he was intrigued by my tennis skirt since the hemline was much shorter than my usual skirts, and actually SLID HIS HAND ON MY THIGH. I nearly DROPPED DEAD right then and there and at that moment I realized that every lesson mama ever taught me about boys was right. He also wasn't very courteous about it—his hand landed right on the bruise on my thigh, making it even worse. I was tempted to join a convent, but then I realized that wouldn't work out too well considering I think religion is a joke. My natural response was to kick him in the shin and he sort of deflated as though he was a child being punished. We sat there for a while but once my elbows started bleeding on his sofa he figured I should go home and clean up while he attempted to hide the stains from his mother._

"What the hell are you readin'?" Jack asked, looking up from his book. "You keep makin' these strange little noises."

Jean Louise sat up straighter, slightly embarrassed by the fact that she hadn't been able to hide her reactions as well as she thought she had been. "History notes," she gulped, not knowing what else to say. "Franz Ferdinand was just assassinated."

Jack slammed his book down, making Jean Louise jumped. "Ferdinand's assassination?" He almost shouted. " _That's_ history?! I was _alive_ for that!"

Jean Louise had to hold back her laughter as her uncle ranted about how he didn't understand "modern" school systems, and once she was sure he was finished she politely excused herself to return back home.

-o-o-o-

"Well, isn't it our runner, Ms. Jean Louise Finch?" Ms. Maudie asked from her front porch as Jean Louise approached her home. Despite the fact that she was still utterly embarrassed by what had happened with Hank (it had been four days and she still hasn't seen him…) she couldn't help but smile at her neighbor. Maudie also happened to be Eugenia's only cousin, and Jean Louise couldn't help but to smile at the rare occurrence when Maudie was mentioned.

She was sick these days, though no one really explained how. From what Jean Louise could deduce, it simply seemed as though Maudie was in constant pain, with some days being worse than others. Maybe it was arthritis, she thought to herself—Atticus had recently been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis this past year (which scared Jean Louise) and it kind of seemed as though Maudie may have the same condition. Though, Jean Louise was quite certain she'd never know. "How're you today, Miss Maudie?" She asked, approaching her neighbor's front fence.

"Any day that I'm above ground is a good day to me," she responded with a small grin. "Now don't change the subject, missy, I heard about your last-minute decision to run a marathon." She winked.

"Where's Hank?" She asked, lowering the tone of her voice. Maudie couldn't help but to cackle.

"You don't need to worry," she smirked. "He's been working extra hours at the Jitney Jungle…says he's saving up for something."

So maybe he was _still_ going to be her date to the debutante ball after all.

"Miss Maudie," she said seriously. "You should've _seen_ where he took me—if Aunt Alexandra ever found out, both mine and Hank's heads would be on your fence."

She rolled her eyes. "She's not a very gallant boy, I'll admit, but hopefully he'll shape up." She responded. "I recall your grandmother telling me about a boy your mama was involved with, but I can't remember his name for the life of me…"

 _Emmett._

"Anyway," Maudie said. "Your Aunt Hattie said he cleaned up alright, so hopefully there's some hope for Hank."

Jean Louise wasn't quite sure how she felt about Hank being compared to Emmett. Based off of the things she had read in her mother's journals, Emmett did not seem like a shining star.

"Hopefully you're right," Jean Louise smiled. "Well, I hope you have a good night, Miss Maudie."

The two women smiled at each other before Jean Louise quietly entered her home. She couldn't see if Jem, but she knew for certain that Atticus and Alexandra were listening to the radio in the living room. Dreading even more debutante talk, Jean Louise tried to quietly slide past them.

"Young lady," Alexandra said, making her jump. Jean Louise's first reaction was to pin herself to the hallway wall, as though she was under attack. "I've been waiting for you."

"Oh, he-ey, Aunty," she replied awkwardly, trying not to look as though she had just been hiding from her aunt. Alexandra gave her a look that was a mixture of confusion and even a hint of disappointment.

"What are you doin'?" She asked as Jean Louise did not move.

Jean Louise coughed. "Um well I was…actually I'm not too sure."

Alexandra forced a smile. "Well come in the dining room real quick, I got some things to show you!"

Jean Louise faked a smile. "Alright," she said stiffly, following her aunt into the dining room, where various snapshots and magazine clippings had been strategically placed. "Um, Aunty…?"

"There are just some ideas I saw when I was with Henry and his family," she grinned. "Francis escorted _two_ young ladies to their debutante balls this past year and he was able to help me gather some ideas for you." Alexandra was nearly giddy with excitement, which made Jean Louise want to laugh. "I have some pictures of dresses and hair styles here for you! I'd like to see what you like so we can start plannin'… obviously I don't have any colored photos, but I do think you'd look darling with some subtle makeup, it'd really look—"

"Zandra," Atticus called from the living room. "The thing is over five months away, surely you two will change your minds by the time it actually comes around."

"Oh, no!" She said, almost as if she was warning him. "We need to have everything solidified _now_ so we have time to account for any unexpected emergencies!"

Jean Louise hadn't a clue what her aunt was talking about. As she looked at the pictures of dresses (she was pretty sure her aunt had taken snapshots taken from when Francis had gone to the debutante balls and just brought them for Jean Louise to look at), she couldn't understand why this was such a big deal. "Um," she said, picking up a snapshot of a simple, sleeveless white dress. "I kinda like this one, Aunty."

Quickly, Alexandra brought her attention back to her niece, grabbing the snapshot from her hands. She raised her eyebrows. "Hmm," she said, and Jean Louise was fearful that her aunt was going to hate it. "This is the most normal lookin' one there, I'm surprised."

Jean Louise coughed to hide her laughter. "Well, thanks." She mumbled.

Her aunt had kept her there for an _hour_ , telling Jean Louise things that they had already discussed before—like how she should stand straight, that she needed to learn to walk in heels, how she needed to be as delicate as possible because she'd be wearing white, and how she needed to begin looking for an escort…

"Have you considered anyone?" Aunt Alexandra asked for what seemed to be the millionth time. She was half-tempted to tease her aunt and say that she was going to ask Jem to escort her, but seeing how his attitude was these days, she wasn't sure that was a good idea.

"I'm carefully considering my options," Jean Louise lied. After her horrific date with Hank on Saturday (which she couldn't help but to be surprised that Aunt Alexandra did _not_ know about it), she had not given the subject very much thought.

Aunt Alexandra furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"

"I'm tryin' to compile a list of all the people I can tolerate for an entire evening," she replied sarcastically. "So far the list is pretty short."

She heard Atticus chuckle from the living room, and couldn't help but to feel slightly proud of herself.

"Young lady!" Aunt Alexandra gasped. "You need to take this more seriously."

"But _Aunty_ —"

"If you don't tell me who you'll be escortin' by the end of next week, I'll have Francis take you, I'm sure he'd be _glad_ to." Aunt Alexandra said as Jean Louise's breath got caught in her throat – _Francis?!_ "It's important you have this settled now so we can settle his suit size and all sorts of other things that take time."

She swore she could hear Atticus chuckling again. "Fine," she said quickly. "It's a deal, I'll tell you by the end of next week."

Aunt Alexandra flashed her a smug smile.

Either she was going to have to make nice with Hank (who she was already on relatively good terms with…or so she thought) _or_ she'd have to try her hardest to make up for the eleven years of torture she inflicted on her other male classmates in the hope that one of them would escort her.

She wasn't sure which task would be more challenging.

-o-o-o-

That evening, she decided to give her mother's journals a rest. Once she checked her inventory of what she read and what she hadn't, she realized that she was _flying_ through them. Part of her couldn't stop reading, couldn't stop wanting to know what was going on in her mother's life, but then the other part of her wanted to prolong this for as long as possible—to have her mother with her for as long as possible.

Instead she settled herself with _Murder on the Orient Express_ by Agatha Christie. She had read it before, but when she saw it lying in the living room, she decided to give it another go. She remembered how she and Jem used to run to the drug store whenever they got a new copy of one of Agatha Christie's books, and they'd both read it together—discussing the various things that were occurring with the plot.

Now, she read them alone. Though, she couldn't say she minded that much.

She was also going to check on Atticus tonight once everyone had gone to bed. After she overheard him on Saturday evening, she decided that she probably shouldn't "snoop" (she wouldn't necessarily call it _that_ ) on him and give him his privacy. However, as they days passed she couldn't help but to wonder what type of things he talked to her about. She obviously overheard him talking about her and Jem a couple of times, but she was curious as to see how he had so much to talk to Eugenia about. She wondered what he would do if he ever caught her listening in, but she ultimately decided _not_ to think about that.

There was a knock on her door. Probably Aunty or Atticus checking in on her to see what she was doing, the two of them had been growing increasingly concerned about all of the time she spent in her room doing homework, thinking that it wasn't normal. Now they had settled into a routine where they would occasionally check on her, to see if she was being honest and not just locking herself in her room to avoid people (though that _had_ been part of Jean Louise's motive). "Come in," she said dully, skimming through the book.

It was Jem.

Jean Louise looked up, rather shocked to see her brother standing in the doorway. He had a hard expression on his face (he always did these days), and his hands were shoved in his pockets. He looked tired.

"He-ey," Jean Louise said, not taking her eyes off of him.

"I heard about Hank," he said, his teeth gritted. She became flooded with fear—was _Jem_ going to be mad about the ordeal?

"Oh, um," she mumbled, not quite knowing what to say.

"Did he do anything to you?" He asked. He was angry and Jean Louise grew increasingly nervous—he was certainly going to yell at her for running away.

"Well, no…" she began, not knowing how to explain herself.

"You sure?" He asked, looking directly into her eyes.

"Yes," she swallowed. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'," he said, turning his back. Though, before he shut her door, she heard him clearly say: "because I'll kill him, that's why."


	6. Chapter 6

_I had intercourse for the first time with Emmett last night. While at the time I convinced both him and myself that we were doing this because I was ready and that I loved him, I realized that my motives were purely petty in nature, and I feel rather foolish. I was originally glad that I had waited two years to go through with the stupid ritual that is debutante season so that Louise and I could attend the ball together, I quickly came to regret it. I received so much_ hell _from Katrina and the other girls who I would've attended school with and the constant berating was enough to make me want to commit murder. It didn't help that I've graduated from school and have no outlet to utilize the random assortment of knowledge and skills I have accumulated and will instead be a nanny for my sister (who doesn't even work). I'm stuck in my childhood home in Montgomery, continuously being tortured by my so called "friends" and my inability to do anything useful with my education._

 _So, I decided that last night I would_ truly _become a woman, mere hours after being "introduced" to Montgomery as a "proper" lady. I remember Lottie telling me the explicit details of her first time with Simon, and she told me that after that occasion she was certain she loved Simon and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him._

 _And from my experience I know I_ don't _love Emmett. It could be because it was hot and in the back of his daddy's automobile and the fact that we had snuck so much alcohol from the debutante ball that I felt nauseous and all I could smell were the noxious fumes of stale alcohol and rich food on Emmett's breath. Or the fact that he acted so savagely and insensitively at the rare opportunity of me giving myself to him that he seemed more like an animal than a human. Or it could be the fact that I never really loved him at all and kept him dangling to spite Katrina and all of the others who said I couldn't keep him. But what if I didn't even want him in the first place?_

 _And now I'm stuck. It's as though he's been hooked after this occurrence, and I don't know how to shake him off. While I had previously thought this was a good idea, I now think of this as one of my biggest mistakes. The last thing I want is to be bound to Emmett for the rest of my life, but I think that's what is beginning to happen._

Those words had burned into Jean Louise's brain since she had read them the previous evening. The journal entry before this one, dated June of 1914, explained graduation festivities and her mother's sheer joy of accomplishing something that made her proud of herself, simply to be followed by a story full of regret that actually made Jean Louise's heart ache in sadness. She could barely sleep a wink after reading that, and found that her mother's anguish filling her mind that entire morning.

That, mixed with the anxiety that came along with her promise to Aunt Alexandra that she would find an escort for the debutante ball by the end of the week made her feel as though she was on edge, ready to snap. A week had passed since her conversation with Aunty, and her debacle still wasn't solved, and there were only two days left until she was forced to go with her _cousin_. She had only seen Hank one time following their incident at the Eddy (and she hid from him, so she wasn't sure if he saw _her_ ), and she only briefly considered asking another boy from her class to escort her. But the boys like Walter Cunningham and Cecil Jacobs would merely laugh at the request (or so Jean Louise thought), and she knew she wasn't going to have any luck. For a fleeting moment, out of pure desperation, she considered writing Dill again, asking him to be her escort. But he was unreliable and even if he did answer promptly, she still probably wouldn't know in time to tell her aunt.

She had simply resigned herself to the fact that she was going to be the pathetic girl who was too much of an outcast to find her own date and had to go with her unbearable cousin. She should have known that this would have been her luck, considering the fact that this entire endeavor seemed like a sham. But then, something happened.

She was saved, or so she thought.

"I'll still go with ya if you promise not to pull another stint like that," Hank said that Wednesday morning. Jean Louise's head was still clouded by her mother's journal entry, and was caught quite off guard by her neighbor blocking her path. If she hadn't been so tired, she would've jumped out of her skin as a result of his unexpected presence. "Geeze, you look like shit."

She gave him a blank look. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

He sighed, looking at her as though she wasn't understanding a single thing he was saying. "I'll take you to that ball thing," he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "But you can't decide to be a marathon runner during it."

She couldn't hide her shock. "What?" She asked, wondering if she was delusional from lack of sleep.

"You really are not yourself this mornin'," he said, shaking his head. "Scout, I'll take you to your ball—I've been workin' extra hours and savin' up for the things I need, I don't even know what the hell I need, but I'll take you. You technically went out with me that night, so I need to keep up with my end of the promise."

She wanted to scream for joy—she wouldn't have to go with Francis after all! "Oh, Hank!" She nearly squealed, awkwardly pulling him in for a one-sided hug. "Oh, I could _kiss_ you right now!"

Stepping back a few paces, he flashed her an impish grin. "Now, I wouldn't mind _that_."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't test your luck, I've got school."

-o-o-o-

After that night at the Eddy, she still wasn't quite sure how she felt about Hank. Yes, she had played with him during childhood, but she had watched him progress into a cocky, careless and free-wheeling boy who made her uncomfortable. She wasn't sure if Jem was just an oddity, but Jean Louise swore her brother was much more mature at seventeen than Hank was.

But, he was going to escort her, and he was a much better option than Francis.

Throughout the day her mind was full of thoughts revolving around both her mother and Hank. She had so desperately wished that her mother was alive so that they could discuss things like Emmett and debutante balls and Hank and other things Jean Louise had missed out on. She also wondered if Hank would hold the debutante ball and what Jean Louise did at the Eddy over her head, coercing her into doing things just so she wouldn't lose her date and have to go with Francis after all. All of these thoughts filled her with a strange sense of apprehension and sadness, and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

At first, she thought of talking to Aunt Louise, finally coming clean about the diaries and Hank and all of the things that were bothering her. She was never shy about going to Louise with any of her problems, but she found that these circumstances were quite different than the other things she spoke with her aunt about. The uncertainty around Louise's response to everything made Jean Louise uneasy, and she ultimately decided that this was something that she would deal with on her own. By not having a mother her entire life, Jean Louise found that she was quite good at solving the types of issues daughters usually talked to their mothers about on her own.

Though, that didn't stop her from going to Aunt Louise's and Uncle Jack's house after school that afternoon.

Aunt Louise had been making tea for her and Uncle Jack when Jean Louise arrived, and was more than happy to serve some to her niece as well. Jean Louise was in love with her aunt's teapot; it was a small white one with blue floral designs all over it. When Aunt Louise first moved to Maycomb she told Jean Louise it was a piece of Polish pottery—something that had existed on her mother's side of the family for a long time. Even today, Jean Louise found herself mesmerized by the simple, yet beautiful pattern that adorned the pot. What made it better was that Louise had nothing else that matched it, making the piece truly unique.

"You look preoccupied, sweet," Aunt Louise had said as she poured Jack a piping hot mug of tea.

"She looks like normal ol' Scout!" Jack exclaimed (he was one of the only people she allowed to call her by that dreaded childhood nickname). "You read too much into these things, Lou."

"You're a physician, not a psychiatrist so don't even try to analyze me." Louise huffed, crossing her arms. "What's goin' on? Is it that mad hunt for a debutante escort that Alexandra has you on?"

"I actually have an escort," Jean Louise said, and it almost seemed as though Louise's face had brightened.

"You do?" She asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, are you gonna tell me who it is?"

"You're just as bad as Stephanie Crawford,"

"Jack! She's my dau…she's my _niece_ and I have a right to know." Jean Louise always pretended to not hear Louise refer to her as her daughter.

Jean Louise took a large gulp of tea. "Hank Clinton."

"That punk that lives with Maudie?" Jack asked. Jean Louise ignored him and looked at her aunt, whose eyes had widened. Jean Louise swore that her aunt looked paler.

"He lives with Miss Maudie, yes." Jean Louise replied.

Louise coughed. "Sweet…is there no one else you could ask?"

Jean Louise furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, can't you ask one of your classmates to take you?"

"Like they would say yes," she replied sarcastically.

"You never know,"

"Hank already did,"

"But there are other options."

"Aunty says if I don't tell her who I'm goin' with by _Friday_ , I'm goin' with Francis, so I think Hank is a much better idea." Jean Louise said, trying to laugh off the situation. She was grateful when Jack laughed along with her, but it didn't stop Louise from looking concerned.

"You still got two days," she said gently.

"I don't understand the big deal," Jack replied, scowling at her. "The kid said yes, and that should be that."

Louise's cheeks flushed and she looked down at her tea, sighing. "I suppose you're right," she said softly.

-o-o-o-

Her aunt's odd behavior that afternoon was another thing added to the list of things that made Jean Louise uneasy. She couldn't help but to think of the sheer uneasiness in Louise's eyes after she had found out that Hank would be taking her to the debutante ball. It was almost as if she was told that someone close to her had passed away. It was strange and very unlike her aunt, and therefore made Jean Louise worry.

Aunt Alexandra was standing on the front porch when Jean Louise came home. Her hands were on her hips and she had an expression on her face that made Jean Louise feel as though she had done something wrong. Did she slack off in school? Did she do something to make a fool of herself in front of somebody? She hadn't gotten into a fight with any of her classmates in years, so it couldn't be that, so what was it?

"Get inside, young lady," Alexandra said, prompting Jean Louise to run up the porch steps. Her aunt swiftly opened the door for her and ushered her niece inside.

"Where's Atticus and Jem?" She asked, noticing their absence from the living room.

"They're workin' on a case," Aunt Alexandra replied shortly. At that moment Jean Louise remembered that her father had received an odd case recently, which required him to put extra hours in at the office. Jem, as his protégé, was forced to follow in suit. "Please tell me my ears were deceivin' me when Stephanie Crawford told me you were goin' to your debutante ball with _Henry Clinton_."

Had Louise called Aunt Alexandra that quickly?

Jean Louise gulped. "Um, well, yes I asked him and he said yes—"

"Jean Louise, this is a very _important_ occasion and it shouldn't be besmirched by someone—"

"Aw c'mon, he's not _that_ bad," she said, feeling her cheeks flushed.

"Don't interrupt me," Alexandra said sharply, making Jean Louise jump. "This will not be _besmirched_ by someone as low-grade and trashy as him. I don't understand what you were thinking when you made this decision but Jean Louise, I assure you that this was very inappropriate."

She felt as though her face was on fire. She picked at a piece of her cuticle so hard it began to bleed, and she had no idea how to respond to her aunt. Maybe this was a poor decision, she began to think to herself, but who else would've said yes? "Well what do I do?" She asked, almost pleadingly as knot formed in the middle of her throat. "I don't know who else would say yes and I like Francis and all but it would be humiliatin' to go with my _cousin_ ," Jean Louise was lying but Aunt Alexandra didn't need to know that. "I didn't know what else to do and I just wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly and he was willin' and I thought it was fine and—"

Aunt Alexandra had taken her handkerchief from her apron pocket and wrapped Jean Louise's bloody finger in it. She sighed, and although her expression hadn't softened, Jean Louise knew that something in her aunt's mind had. "Well, he said yes and it's already spread like wildfire that you're goin' with him," she said. "So you'll take him, but under strict conditions. Since he can't afford etiquette classes, I'll teach him myself, he's to stop his hoodlum ways, and I'm going to instill the fear of God himself into that boy to ensure that he doesn't mess any of this up."

Jean Louise thought she should have felt better because of this, but didn't. What if it was _her_ who was messing everything up? She wasn't the debutante type to begin with, and she was quite certain that Aunty's attempts to make Hank a gentleman would be a disaster. This entire thing was crumbling before Jean Louise before it even began.

But she couldn't tell Aunt Alexandra that.

"Thanks, ma'am." Jean Louise mumbled before hurrying to her room.

-o-o-o-

She had tried to read more of her mother's journals, but found that the entries after Eugenia's experience with Emmett depressed her too much. It was as though her mother was trapped in Montgomery, anchored down by people like Emmett and Katrina and unable to free herself from their confining influences. The way she talked about Lottie and her kids was sweet, but it was overpowered by her qualms about Emmett and the people she had grown up around.

She had spent hours in her room before realizing she hadn't any supper that night, and after a while her hunger had become too much of a nuisance. Quietly, she left her bedroom and embarked on her journey to the kitchen, where there'd hopefully be some leftovers waiting for her. On her way, she noticed that Atticus' study light was on, and realized that he and Jem must have gotten home ages ago.

She stopped when she heard him talking. She quickly assumed that he was talking to Eugenia once again, telling her about his day and the case and his fears for his children (he continuously mentioned how he was worried that Jem was too agitated and that it would affect his heart), but when she heard him say: "…you've got to understand…" she realized that someone else was in there with him.

At first she thought it was Aunt Alexandra, talking about how atrocious it was that Jean Louise was going to be taking Hank of all people to the debutante ball. Curious about what was being said, Jean Louise hovered outside her door.

That's when she realized it was _Louise_ in the office.

"You've got to stop this," she said, speaking in a hushed tone. "Atticus, Hank should _not_ be taking her to this thing. She shouldn't be doing this in the first place!"

"I understand what you're saying," he explained, trying to be rational as always. " _I_ don't think she should do this either, but this is _her_ decision and she's old enough to decide for herself now and we need to respect that."

Louise sighed. "I—I just," was she beginning to _cry_? The only time Jean Louise remembered her aunt crying was when Jem nearly died—she was too stubborn of a person for that. "I don't…I've seen this before and I-I just…I'm bein' foolish, I should go…"

At that moment, Jean Louise hurried as quickly as she could to her room, shutting the door softly behind her. For a few moments she stood by her door, holding her breath as she heard Atticus and Louise exit the study. He mumbled something to his sister-in-law, though Jean Louise could not hear it, and she heard them walk towards the living room. Not even five minutes later, she heard her father retreat back into the study. Quietly, she went back into the hallway and lingered by the study door—this _was_ about the time that he talked to Jean.

Just as she had turned to go back into her room, he began talking.

"I'm not sure what Louise was talking about, or if you could even hear her," he began. "But it's clear that she has the same worries as I do over Scout and this debutante ball…I'm not sure what she was referring to, but the fact that she had become so upset concerns me. I don't know what compelled Jean Louise to say yes to this, but I wish she hadn't, it just isn't like her. Jean—just make sure you watch over her, from wherever you are…"

She had to bite her lip to stop herself from making a noise. She retreated back into her room, fighting back tears and no longer hungry.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This is kind of a transition chapter that'll hopefully lead to a buildup to some bigger events, so this is probably a little dry! Tomorrow I'll be leaving to go to home, meaning I won't be in my apartment/have computer access until late Sunday night/Monday. I will have access to the site, but I just won't be writing in that time.

-o-o-o-

"At the end of the summer we're movin'," Atticus said nonchalantly during the first Finch Sunday supper of the summer. The words had come from his lips effortlessly, all while Jean Louise and Jem's lives fell apart before their families.

At that instance, she hated her father for doing this in front of everyone. To her, Atticus should have known that this would not go over well with his children, and that this was something that should have been saved for a private meeting. As she felt Jem begin to shake besides her, her face flushed red. She didn't know how to respond except to protest the news.

"We can't be," she said, trying to remain as calm and level-headed as her father. "Why would we do that?!"

"I'm not leavin'," Jem said, crossing his arms. His face had gone from red to white. "I've been here my enti—"

"We'll still be in Maycomb," their father explained, as if that would make them feel better about the fact that they had to leave the home they had been _born_ in. "The town's committee decided they had better uses for these families and they're simply relocating us—we'll be closer to Jack and Louise, actually."

Louise flashed her niece and nephew a smile as a way to comfort them. Both of them ignored her.

"That doesn't matter," Jem said, he was now gritting his teeth. "This was _mama_ ' _s_ house."

She was glad he said it before she did, considering the fact that she had no memory of her mother at all, let alone in their home, so it would look strange if _she_ had made that argument. But, based off the things she had heard from Cal, her father, Louise, Maudie—anyone in town who knew Jean Finch, really—this home had been made by Jean. She was the one who planted the flowers by the front porch that came back each year. She was the one who decided that the treehouse would go up when Jem had been young. She arranged the furniture the way it was now (it had never been moved since her death). She picked out the drapery, the bedding, and the different pictures that adorned each room. This was Jean Graham Finch's home.

And now it was going to be destroyed. Now, she was _really_ going to be gone.

"Jeremy," Aunt Alexandra said firmly. Jean Louise looked to Louise, whose own face had flushed. For once, she and Jack were completely silent.

"I have no control over this," Atticus said gently as he rose from his chair. "Therefore, there can be no discussion."

With great effort (his rheumatism must have been bothering him _or_ he was just as sad as his children) Atticus moved from his seat at the table and retreated in the direction of his office.

The table was silent, barely touching the meal that Aunt Alexandra had prepared. Jean Louise looked around the dining room, trying to observe every detail that she had taken advantage of before. Louise cleared her throat, making her niece jump. She looked at Jean Louise and Jem with sympathetic eyes. "Hattie lives in Edie's house," she said softly. "All your mama's things are still there," she was trying her best to show them that this wasn't so bad, but neither of them could really believe her.

Nobody talked about the subject again for the remainder of supper. In fact, nobody talked about _anything_ after Atticus excused himself from the table. Jean Louise suspected that each of them wanted to excuse themselves, to get themselves as far as they could from the situation, but instead they all just sat in silence. Once Jack and Louise _finally_ left, the three remaining Finch's were able to silently retreat in their rooms.

As she entered her bedroom, Jean Louise scoffed and wanted to slam the door, but thought better of it. Instead, once she was in the safe confines of her bedroom, she grabbed her mother's journal and threw herself upon her bed with so much force it actually hurt her.

 _Tuesday, June 30, 1914_

 _I've been avoiding Emmett ever since the night of the debutante ball. It's been probably three weeks since the occasion and since then whenever I see him in the city or in my neighborhood, I hide. I ruin the schedule that Lottie has for Simon and Clara by taking them to the park and into the city at different times, just to reduce the risk of running into Emmett. I've been hiding from Katrina, too; I haven't seen her since before the ball (when she taunted me about being a "late bloomer" in front of everyone she had gone to school with). I find that it's all too embarrassing to deal with so instead I spend most of my time with Louise (which isn't unusual), but instead of our usual antics I've been confining us to our home or Aunt Bea's or random places where I_ know _Emmet can't find us (she was quite pleased when we made the trek to the large water tower, that is nearly an hour's walk away from home, and climbed up the ladder to sit on its railings—we got a nice view of all of Montgomery out of it)._

 _But I think Louise is growing suspicious about my constant attempts to avoid Emmett or any of the other people my age. She hasn't said anything, though she probably will soon—she's never been shy to confrontation. I'm not sure what I would even say to her. I don't talk about Emmett to her, and even if I did I don't think she'd understand. While she has gone on dates and flirted around with boys who would have been in her class, she hasn't had anyone like Emmett in her life. She's too strong-willed to allow just one person to take ahold of her, so I don't think she'd quite understand my problems. And I don't think I want to tell her, either._

 _I think mama's getting suspicious, too. She mentioned that Katrina's mother hadn't seen me at the bridge games Katrina's been hosting this summer, while I have been telling mama that I have been going to these all along. I tried to play it off that Katrina invites a lot of ladies to these things, and I just seem to blend in, but I'm not sure if she believes me._

 _Sometimes I look at Lottie's life and feel bad for her. It's not that she is unhappy with Simon and her children, but I feel as though there could be so much more to it. She lives down the street from mama in an identical house in the neighborhood she grew up in, seeing the same faces every day and not doing much besides taking care of her home, her husband and her children. I think she finds it fulfilling, but I just can't imagine it—I'm not sure if it's because I'm younger than she is, or if I really can't picture myself living the same life as her._

Jean Louise shut the journal, feeling slightly disappointed by what was in it. Obviously, something eventually changed her mother's mind about being married and having a family, but she couldn't help but to feel slightly disillusioned by that latest entry. She was probably being irrational, she thought to herself, but based off of the stories she had heard about her mother, she had convinced herself that her mother had always been the nurturing type.

It upset her because it turned out she didn't know her mother as well as she thought she did, and that was all Jean Louise ever wanted. Though she never personally known the woman past the age of two, Jean Louise still believed that she had her figured out, that she understood her mother in the ways that other girls understood their own mothers.

But it was clear by these journal entries that she didn't.

Between the news about her home and the journal entries, she felt sick, as though she had just been betrayed by somebody close to her. Not only was her life being ripped from underneath her as a result of Atticus' news, but she was utterly confused about the type of woman her mother had been, after all. Her entire life she heard so many stories of how _domestic_ Jean Finch was, how _ladylike_ , how _delicate_ , and her journal entries were beginning to open Jean Louise up to a completely different side of her mother that she didn't knew existed.

It didn't help that Jean Louise had never known the woman past the age of two. Maybe then things would be different.

Staring at the wallpaper that had adorned her walls for as long as she could remember, Jean Louise felt confined by her settings. Knowing that Jem had stormed off into his room and Aunty and Atticus had disappeared as well, Jean Louise decided it wouldn't hurt if she didn't tell them she needed air. Gently, she exited her room and retreated to the front porch, where she hastily sat herself on the swing.

She looked at the treehouse she and Jem spent so many hours playing in as children, now barren and looking run-down. She observed the flowers her mother had planted so long ago, beginning to bloom in the spring heat. She noticed the wisteria bush, cut down short ever since her mother had died. She noticed the vacant corner of the porch were, according to Jem, Atticus had found their mother lying dead fourteen years ago. Soon it would all be gone.

She wanted to vomit.

Hastily, she stood up from the porch swing and descended down the stairs, thinking that maybe a little more movement would make her feel better. While she no longer had the urge to be sick, she still found that a ball of anxiety had made residence in the pit of her stomach. She felt on edge.

"He-ey," Hank said from across the street. He was weeding again. "Or shall I say, good evening, ma'am?"

It had been almost a month since Alexandra had agreed to allow Hank be Jean Louise's escort to the debutante ball. The two of them had nearly five hour of etiquette lessons a week (Jean Louise couldn't help but to feel bad for him, especially when Alexandra would mention that he needed all of the help he could get). Jean Louise was never present for these lessons—Alexandra declared she would be a distraction, and since school had ended Jean Louise was forced to spend that time away from home. Usually she'd hide out at Aunt Louise's house, drinking tea and reading books until it was safe enough for her to approach home. Sometimes she'd see some girls form school (which she hated), and other times she'd go to the middle of town with a book or one of her mother's journals and read until the sun began to slip beneath the horizon.

"I said _good evening_ ," Hank repeated after Jean Louise didn't respond. She had simply stared ahead of her at the sky, which was beginning to turn an orangey-pink color.

"What?" She asked, obviously distracted.

He sighed, looking slightly defeated. "Didn't you like my progress from my gentleman classes?" He asked, almost sounding like a whiny child who needed constant validation.

"I guess,"

"You guess? Your aunt wouldn't like the sound of that."

"They're makin' us move," she finally admitted, feeling as though she was beginning to deflate like a balloon. "They're destroyin' our house."

"Oh, I know that," he said, as though she had just informed him of some mundane piece of information from the evening paper. "We have to move, too. But the townspeople found all of us houses, so you shouldn't need to worry."

It wasn't her future living situation that she was worried about. It was her _house_. The one she had been _born_ in, the one she had grown up in, learned in—done _everything_ in. It was as if her entire childhood was being ripped away from her and all she could do was watch. Hank would never understand that; he wasn't born and bred here, he didn't care. She wished he did.

"That's not it," she mumbled, feeling the threat of tears burning in her eyes. She would _not_ cry in front of him. Not over her dead body.

He shrugged, obviously not understanding what she was alluding to (though she told herself she wasn't going to talk anymore about it). "I know what'll cheer you up," he said, smirking at her. She wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. "I'll take you out for a nice dinner next weekend, show you what I learned at all my etiquette lessons."

When she didn't answer right away she noticed his face turned a light shade of pink. "Well?" He asked impatiently. "What do you say, Jean Louise? It won't be like the Eddy—you'll have a nice sit down dinner this time!"

She sighed. "Fine," she replied, feeling as though it was some sort of chore. He didn't look impressed.

"It'll be worth it," he said. "I promis—"

"Jean Louise you get back inside!" Aunt Alexandra called from the front porch, causing Jean Louise to jump and turn around. "I thought you were kidnapped."

She groaned, not impressed by her aunt's melodramatics. "I'm comin' Aunty," she replied testily.

"I'll pick you up Saturday,"

"It's not technically pickin' me up if I live across the street,"

" _Jean Louise_."

She rolled her eyes as she turned swiftly on her heel, making her way back to her house. Aunt Alexandra placed a firm hand on her shoulder and gently nudged her niece back into the house. "Young lady," she whispered before closing the door. "I don't want to see you alone with him,"

"We were right on the street," she protested. "It's not like we were hidin' in the treehouse or doin' something stupid."

"I do not care," Alexandra responded sternly. "He may be your escort to this ball, but I do not—"

"Well, guess what? He's takin' me out to dinner on Saturday," she said swiftly before nearly running to her room and closing the door forcefully behind her. From the refuge of her bedroom, she heard Alexandra mumble the words " _trashy…OK Café…"_ and found herself struck with the urge to punch her aunt (which she would never actually do, of course).

She threw herself on top of her bed and was staring at the ceiling when the door cracked open. She expected her aunt, wanting to have the last word about Hank, or Atticus wanting to talk about the house.

But it was Jem.

Without a word, he slid into her room, closing the door behind him before sprawling himself at the foot of her bed (making her have to move). "This is bullshit," he mumbled, not looking at her.

"It is," she agreed.

"I don't understand how it's even permissible to take _someone's_ house from them."

"Hank says the townspeople have found new houses for all of us already,"

"When did he tell you _that_? Did you know about this already?" Jem asked, sitting up. There was a mixture of surprise and hurt in his eyes.

"No, no," she said quickly, wanting to relieve any suspicions her brother had. "I just saw him ten minutes ago, before Aunty accused him of kidnapping me."

He scoffed. "She's ridiculous."

"'Member when she moved here and told us we needed to be rays of sunshine in Atticus' dreary life?"

"Remember when she used to wear that damn corset?" He responded after chuckling at her comment. "Maybe that's why she's so miserable."

"Shit, it's been years since she's worn that death trap and she's still miserable."

"D'you reckon Dill will come back this summer?" Jem asked, looking over at her for the first time since he had entered her room. She tried to remember him in childhood—with his round face and wide eyes—but he was an adult now. He _looked_ like an adult and sometimes it was almost as if Jem had been replaced by an entirely new person. However, when he mentioned Dill, it was almost like the child in him was shining through.

Jean Louise shrugged. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "It's been three years, he barely even writes anymore."

Jem laughed. "Remember when he cut up Miss Rachel's nice sheets and pretended to be the Holy Ghost?"

She nearly screeched with laughter, remember one of the many stories they had played out as children. "Charles Baker Harris, I'll Holy Ghost _you_!" She cried, imitating Miss Rachel.

"And you were stark naked! In front of that preacher!" Jem was laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes, Jean Louise hadn't seen that in a long time, and it helped to dissipate the anxiety that had formed within her after supper.

"And we thought we hurt Atticus' feelin's real bad," she added, now laughing herself. "Especially when the preacher prayed for God to forgive us because we were motherless children and we didn't know better—I swore Atticus had been cryin' but he was out there laughin' just as hard as you!"

Jem inhaled deeply, trying to catch his breath from laughing. "Remember playing Boo Radley?" He asked. "I feel like that was hundreds of years ago."

"Now you're a big shot lawyer," she teased.

He scoffed. "Not in the slightest,"

"You will be,"

"And you'll be far away from here,"

"What makes you say that?"

Jem sat up, propping himself on his elbows. "This place is too small for you," he said, nodding his head. "You deserve somewhere better."

She shrugged. "I like it here,"

"But what are you goin' to do for the rest of your life _here_?" He asked, seriously. "Marry Hank and pop out kids and be a stay at home wife and have tea with Aunty and the ladies _every day_. You'd kill yourself just like Uncle Phil!"

Uncle Phil had been Louise's husband, she married him before Jean Louise was born and he died just two years after Jean did, prompting Louise to run off to Europe for two years. Atticus, and the rest of her family had told her that he had died of a brain aneurysm in his sleep, and that's what she had believed. Upon hearing what Jem said, she nearly jumped to her feet.

" _What?_ " She asked, shocked.

He rolled her eyes at her. "It was probably insensitive, but you know I'm right," he said, giving her a blank look. "Wait…why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Uncle Phil _killed himself_?" She asked in a hushed tone, as though it was something she wasn't supposed to be saying. Jem's eyes widened.

"Shit, you didn't know that?" He asked.

"No! No!" She nearly screamed. "I didn't! I believed what everyone was telling me!"

"You were a kid!"

"So were you and _you_ know!"

"I overheard Jack and Louise talking about it years ago," he admitted. "So I'm technically not allowed to know."

"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard," she whispered, speaking as if Aunt Louise was standing just outside the doorway.

"Nanny told her that it was better for her to be a widow than a divorced woman because it made her look less tainted," Jem said. "I think they were havin' problems or something."

She wanted to say that it seemed as though she didn't know _any_ of the women in her life as well as she thought she did—alluding to her mother's journal _and_ this new information about Aunt Louise. But that would mean she'd have to admit that she had her mother's journals in the first place, which meant that Jem would want to read them, which meant that Jean Louise would have to share the mother she had selfishly been keeping to herself.

So, she remained silent.

"So, what's going on with the debutante ball?" Jem asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Remembering what her brother said about killing Hank, she decided she wouldn't tell him about the fact that she would be going on another date with him that upcoming weekend. Instead, she began to tell him about the progress Hank was making at his etiquette lessons with Aunt Alexandra. She tried to make the stories funny, wanting to hear her brother laugh before it disappeared again.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Jean's journal entry touches upon a sensitive topic that may serve as a trigger warning for some, so I thought it necessary to provide a warning. I have some things planned that may cause me to change the rating of this story, but I'm unsure of that yet—if I write anything that may be upsetting, I'll always put a warning beforehand.

-o-o-o-

"How did Uncle Phil die?"

She regretted what she said as soon as it came out of her mouth. She wasn't sure why she had asked the question; she remembered her uncle only slightly more than her own mother. Her only memory of him included her at four-years-old, hanging onto his knee as he pretended to walk like a giant. He had been entertaining, and she reckoned she missed him at first, but he seemed to fade away after a while.

Louise, who had been bent over cleaning the oven, shot up as though she was startled by a loud noise. Her cheeks were flushed from cleaning, and her messy brown hair framed the perplexed expression that now graced her face. Jean Louise watched as her aunt's chest heaved in and out—she must have been out of breath from all of the cleaning she had been doing. "You mean you don't know?" She asked, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Um, I think it was an aneurysm?"

Louise rolled her eyes. "I can't believe we've kept the truth from you _this_ long," she mumbled, as though she was actually talking to herself. She stood up straighter, a blank expression on her face. "Honey, he shot himself."

Jean Louise of course had known the answer, but it didn't stop her heart from sinking when she heard her aunt say it. "Honey, it's been twelve years," she said bluntly, though a frown was now forming on her face. "You don't need to look at me like that."

"Aren't you sad?"

She shrugged. "I was," she replied honestly. "But honey he was havin' problems… _we_ were havin' problems, I was goin' to divorce him but he killed himself first."

"Is that why he did it?" Jean Louise asked, a knot forming in her stomach.

Louise shook her head. Despite the fact that she hadn't been cleaning for nearly ten minutes, it still seemed as though she was out of breath and Jean Louise instantly felt guilty—she had made her aunt feel bad. "That wasn't the first time he tried," she admitted. "He just wasn't successful at first."

"Well, why didn't you remarry?"

Louise chuckled to herself before looking away to wipe a spot on her counter. "I guess for the same reason your daddy never did," she commented, almost so low that Jean Louise thought she misheard.

"Did you love him as much as Atticus loved mama?" She blurted out (once again she regretted saying that immediately), thinking of how Atticus talked to that photo of her mother _daily_ —it had been fourteen years since her mother died and Atticus still missed her. She saw a small smile form on her aunt's lips.

"I suppose not, I don't even know how I felt at this point," she responded, still not looking at her niece. "But when you put yourself in a position like that…getting married, giving yourself to another person…you become incredibly vulnerable. When that's taken away from you, it's even worse—you're vulnerable and alone to deal with the aftermath. You uncle and I had it alright, I suppose…I don't think it would ever be worth it to put myself in a position like that again—plus, I'm not the marrying kind and I should have known it before!"

 _Vulnerable_. The word lingered in her mind for a moment and she decided that was the perfect way to describe how she felt with Hank. _Vulnerable_. Since that initial date they had the weekend after she had found out she would have to move, she was beginning to go out with him more and more. Their encounters were fine enough, she supposed. Emmy, a girl in her grade who Jean Louise considered to be a good enough friend, constantly talked about how _lucky_ Jean Louise was that Hank even noticed her as though Hank was Humphrey Bogart or Gary Cooper. To her, Hank was just _Hank_ , the boy she had practically grown up with her entire life. There wasn't anything special about him.

And yet she continued to see him.

She wasn't quite sure what drew her into him, what made her want to continue seeing him. Despite the etiquette classes he had been taking with Alexandra for nearly two months, he was still brash and what most "normal" people would consider rude. It was as if he knew no boundaries—whenever they went out he had to be close to her at all times, and usually placed a firm hand on her thigh. The first time he had done that, she had squirmed beneath his grip, causing him to laugh and call her as uptight as Aunt Alexandra.

Since then, she never squirmed again.

She couldn't help but to think that Aunt Alexandra would probably be proud of her niece's behavior on these dates. She was quiet and polite, and not the usually outspoken young woman she was known to be. After being accused of not taking this debutante ball seriously, she was going to prove to Aunty that she was committed, even if it meant swallowing her pride and succumbing to the will of Hank. If her mother could do it, than so could she.

Though, she couldn't help but to think that she was losing pieces of herself in the process. Not only was she forcing herself to change the very essence of her persona by _not_ being brazen and unconventional, but she couldn't talk to her Aunt Louise about this new relationship. It was evident that her aunt had no good feelings about Hank, and even the sight of him made her glare. The feeling was mutual—Hank had declared that Louise was one of the most impossible women to ever exist, and preferred instigating her rather than attempting to get on her good side (she couldn't help but to feel slightly hurt by that). Even at sixteen, Jean Louise was wise enough to know _not_ to mention Hank to her aunt (or vice versa) or else it would end in a fight she knew wasn't worth anyone's time or energy. Therefore, it was almost as if Jean Louise was becoming a quieter, meeker version of herself—forced to push many things aside in order to protect the delicate balance that was becoming her life.

A comfortable silence fell between Louise and her niece for a few moments as she continued to scrub at her kitchen. "Why are you doin' this?" Jean Louise asked. Typically, her aunt was a neat person, but she couldn't recall her ever taking this much effort to tidy up before.

Her aunt stopped again, pausing to catch her breath and looking disgruntled. "Alexandra," she grunted. "Decided it would be a _perfect_ idea to invite the ladies _here_ for tea and lunch tomorrow. You know how she gets," she added.

Her mother's sister and her father's sister had a strange relationship. For as long as Jean Louise could remember, Alexandra always approached Louise with a condescending attitude—yet, Alexandra invited Louise to _everything_ as though they were friends. Jean Louise didn't quite understand it, and decided it was better to just accept it for what it was rather than attempt to psychoanalyze the relationship. "Could you have said no?" Jean Louise asked, watching her aunt look down at her counters in disappointment (though they looked perfectly fine).

"I think you of all people know how difficult it is to say no to her," Louise mused as she began rearranging items on her countertop.

"What does that mean?"

Louise flashed her niece a smirk. "The whole debutante thing," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I feel like between her and Hank you're backed into this corner—"

"But I want to do it, and I _like_ Hank." She said firmly.

Louise's smile faltered. "Honey," she said, her tone growing more serious. "There's a way out, if you don't want to—"

"I want to do it," she said again, this time more firmly.

Louise pursed her lips. "If you want to go with someone else—"

"I like Hank." She said shortly.

"All I'm saying is," she responded before pausing. It seemed as though a breath got caught in her throat that couldn't get released. With effort, Louise exhaled. She must have been inhaling too many cleaning fumes. "You need to be careful. If you ever feel like you're in a situation—"

Jean Louie gave her Aunt a blank look. "Aunt Lou, I'm _fine_." She said adamantly.

Louise flashed a stern look. "Fine," she said. "But I swear to God Jean Louise, if anything—"

"It's _fine_ ," she said again, rising from her seat at the kitchen table. "I should go—you should take a rest, I think you're breathin' in too much bleach or somethin'." Stiffly, Jean Louise kissed her aunt on the cheek before exiting through the back door. She figured it was safer to leave now before either of them said anything they regretted.

She was greeted by the stifling, humid heat the moment she stepped out of the door. Inside wasn't much better, but at least she could hide away from direct contact with the sun. Despite the fact that she had a short walk, the heat made it seem ten times longer. July was coming, which meant that she would soon been seventeen.

It also meant that her impending move and the debutante ball were that much closer.

These days it seemed as though her life had become some sort of surreal out of body experience. She was being forced to leave the home she was born in. She was forced to become a lady. She was in a situation where a member of the opposite sex was giving her attention despite the fact that she had always been told she was a strange and unbecoming young girl who certainly wouldn't find romance as quickly as her classmates. At any point in the past, if one ever asked Jean Louise what she'd imagine her sixteenth year being like, she never would have thought it would look like this.

As she walked up the pathway that lead to her home, she couldn't help but to be grateful for the fact that Hank was not working in Miss Maudie's garden. He must have been at the Jitney Jungle, she thought to herself. She couldn't help but to feel bad for him—he had to work extra hours whenever he could to pay for their various dates, not to mention the suit he would soon be needing for the debutante ball. At the same time, she was glad to be able to slink into her house unnoticed. Even being so close to her family's home Hank had the tendency to be rough with her, kissing her rough on the lips or firmly laying his hand on the small of her back. It made her uncomfortable, yet she couldn't find it in her heart to tell him so.

Atticus and Jem were probably still secluded in the cool refuge that was their office, for there was no sign of them when Jean Louise returned home. At first, there was no sign of Aunt Alexandra either, and Jean Louise was excited at the prospect of having the house to herself for just a few moments (on hot days like these she would strip down to her undergarments and lay across her bed, not fearing anyone coming into her room). However, once she heard the dull whirring of the electric fan her aunt kept in her bedroom, Jean Louise knew she wasn't alone.

Hastily, she grabbed her mother's journal out of her undergarment drawer and sprawled out on her bed. She expected to feel some relief from the heat, but instead just felt sticky and agitated, which left her so restless she could hardly focus on the journal before her.

 _Saturday, August 15, 1914_ (parts of this page were smeared with some sort of rusty-brown residue)

 _Emmett hit me today._

 _Maybe that's an understatement, but I feel too foolish to go into those details._

 _I had decided to swallow my pride and see him again. People were beginning to ask questions (Aunt Sarah thought it would be polite to ask me if I even found men attractive and that there was a camp for women who didn't in front of everybody mama had over for tea) and Katrina and the other girls were refusing to talk to me until I went back begging for Emmett's forgiveness (I'm proud to say that I didn't beg or think I needed his forgiveness from anything)._

 _We went out for sodas and then to the park like we used to, and I thought everything was normal but I should have known he was more agitated than usual. I don't think it helped that I would flinch or move away whenever he touched me. It made him angry, I guess, and I just remember him grabbing my arms and my head and face hurting before I just closed my eyes. It was dark out and no one was there and I figured it was all happening quickly enough that it'd be over before I knew it._

 _The next thing I knew, I heard someone saying: "Don't be mad at me." But it wasn't Emmett._

 _It was Louise._

 _She had followed me all night, it turns out—even when I got sodas with Emmett. She followed us from our house to the soda parlor and from the soda parlor to the park, where she hid in bushes quite some distance away from us. She fell asleep, and the next thing she knew Emmett was gone and I was just lying there in the grass alone, my face bleeding and bruises on my arms._

 _She was crying._

It was then Jean Louise noticed that the rust-smears on the paper were _blood_. Her heart was pounding and tears burned at her eyes, desperately wanting to be released. Her heart ached for her eighteen-year-old mother, who was left alone after something so terrible.

She felt bad for Louise.

 _Louise got me up and walked me to Lottie's, too afraid to wake mama up especially since neither of us knew what time it was. We were quiet the entire time but Lou kept looking over at me and even looked scared. Lottie looked tired and confused and I just remember her mumbling things at me, though I can't for the life of me remember what she was saying. They cleaned me up well enough but by the time I got back home I realized there was still blood on my hands (I don't remember touching my face) and my head is still pounding._

 _I want to hate Emmett. I want to lash out at him like he did to me. I want to never want to see him again. But I feel nothing. I think it's time I resigned myself to the fact that this will soon be my life. I'm going to be stuck in Montgomery forever with a_ _boy who can't hold his temper and already seems reliant on alcohol. I'm going to be stuck here, in the place where I have lived forever, and live the miserable life of a housewife._

 _I think that's what I hate—more than Emmett, more than what he did to me—I hate the fact that I am stuck._

Jean Louise didn't bother to stop the tears from running down her face. Rubbing at her nose, she hastily shut the journal and put it back where it belonged. She wished she could go back in time, tell her eighteen year old mother that it'd be different, it'd all be different but then another thought plagued her mind.

What if her mama _hadn't_ been happy with her life in Maycomb? Maycomb was certainly duller than Montgomery—what if her mother felt even more imprisoned here but couldn't escape?

She shook her head at herself. That wasn't true. It _couldn't_ be true.

She caught a glimpse of herself in her vanity mirror. Her face was already flushed from the heat, but had become swollen from her crying. She hurried to the bathroom, flushing her face with tepid water in hopes that it would make her look better but she just looked flustered and wet. Aunty was still in her room and Jem and Atticus were still gone, so she could easily hide away until she calmed down and looked somewhat normal.

But then somebody knocked on the door.

"Jean Louise?" Alexandra called out. Dammit, she had noticed her coming home. "Can you get that?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes, Aunty." She responded before pressing a towel against her face in hopes that it would do something.

It wasn't until she saw Hank standing in the doorway that she realized that he was the last person she had wanted to see. His skin glistened from sweat, making him appear as though he was glowing. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he was clad in his work pants and one of those white tank tops that Aunty swore were trashy. He was grinning at her.

She forced herself to smile.

"Got off early," he said. "Thought you'd want to go out or somethin'. It's hot as hell out here, we can go to the Eddy."

Since their first dreadful experience at the Eddy, she and Hank had gone there multiple times (in daylight of course, though she still didn't tell Aunty that she was there alone with _Hank_ of all people) but she still felt nervous whenever he mentioned it. She was especially vulnerable there—clad in a swimsuit and virtually unprotected from any of his advances. The only good thing about summer was that there would be children swarming around the Eddy, though that didn't stop Hank from grabbing at her behind or touching her in the way she saw adults touching each other in the films.

"Fine," she said after much deliberation.

"Atta girl," he said, putting his hand on her upper arm to pull her closer for a kiss. She almost recoiled, but stopped herself.

She thought of her mother.


	9. Chapter 9

She had gotten into a fight with her Aunt Louise that morning. They fought about the debutante ball and how awful of a person Hank was (yet again) as Louise was hemming the dress that Aunt Alexandra had bought in town. It had left her in a sour mood for the rest of the day, which was probably the reason why she was acting so bitterly towards Hank later that afternoon at the Eddy. They were spending a lot of time there recently, and although it was a cool reprieve from the summer's heat, her mind always gravitated back to their initial date and the discomfort she felt then. Since then, going to the Eddy left her feeling uncomfortable and on edge.

"You should get one of those tops that's shaped like a V," he said carelessly, running his hand up and down her thigh. They were laying on a blanket by the water and Jean Louise knew if her Aunt Alexandra saw how close they were to each other she would have an aneurysm. "They're awfully revealin'." He winked.

She rolled her eyes so hard she was sure they were going to fall out of her head. "It's nice to know that's all you care about," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Aw jeez, Scout," he replied impatiently. "You can tell you're related to Alexandra more and more every day."

"Call me Jean Louise," she was feeling spiteful.

"You've proven my point."

"What's up your ass?" He grumbled, obviously discouraged by her attitude.

She could've been real mean and told him that it was essentially his fault that she was feeling this way. If she hadn't been adamant in defending him to her aunts (and basically anyone else who doubted her decision to see him), she wouldn't have gotten into a fight with Louise while wearing the suffocating dress that Aunt Alexandra had picked out for her. She could've told him that Alexandra was angry about the etiquette classes and that Hank wasn't pulling his weight and she was afraid that he was going to embarrass the Finch family at the debutante ball. She could've told him that she was going through hell because of him.

But she didn't.

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She forced herself to apologize to him and noticed how quickly his demeanor changed. "You look awfully pretty when you're pissed." He offered, thinking that it would make her make her laugh. She forced a smile, noticing how it made Hank look more at ease. He kissed her on the mouth; he always kissed her too hard which never failed to take her aback. She had been seeing him for nearly two months but she still wasn't used to it.

Soon, he was on top of her, seemingly forgetting that the Eddy was heavily populated with people from all around town (this would surely get back to Alexandra). It took her a couple attempts to push him off—he was bigger than her and could easily pin her down. When she finally got him off of her, he groaned in frustration.

"What?" He asked impatiently.

Her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "I don't want you on me," she retorted. "I don't like it."

"You're just sayin' that because Lou is fillin' your head with junk about me." He muttered. For some reason, she was insulted by the fact that he had the audacity to call her aunt by her nickname.

"Excuse me?"

He sat up, genuine anger in his eyes. "I know she hates me, she doesn't try to hide it." He told her. "She flat out told me, actually—said she'd kill me if I did anything to you. I think she's a right ol' hag."

Jean Louise winced. "Were you dropped on your head when you were little?" She nearly screamed, making a group of children next to them jump. "My aunt—Mrs. Green to you—is a great woman, I'd be _lucky_ to be even a little bit like her when I am older!"

Her voice was shrill and despite the fact that she was drenched in sweat from the summer's heat, she had goosebumps forming on her arms. It didn't matter that she had a disagreement with Lou that morning about Hank, he had crossed a line and she wasn't going to let him off easy. Louise was her best friend, the closest thing she had to a biological mother, and she felt the need to defend her like any good daughter would. Hank looked at her like she was insane.

"No one would _ever_ want to marry you if you ended up like that," he replied, his voice full of malice. "I bet her husband died from the mere stress of being married to someone like _her_."

Jean Louise felt as though her face was in a permanent frown as she thought about her Uncle Phil and his suicide. She could imagine the shock and despair Louise felt after that ordeal (the woman basically ran away afterwards, for Christs' sake!), and she found herself getting increasingly agitated. "You're _unbelievable_ ," she spat, standing up from her place on the blanket. The skirt of her dress had ridden up, nearly exposing her backside to everyone at the Eddy. Angrily, she pulled her dress down. "I can't believe I _ever_ saw anything in you."

She turned on her heel and stormed off. "Scout, come back." Hank called, unable to hide the fury in his voice.

She wasn't coming back.

-o-o-o-

On her way home, she almost stopped by Louise's house. She was going to apologize for her earlier actions, she decided. She was going to apologize and tell Louise that she had been right about Hank the entire time. She couldn't believe he felt so inclined to say those things about Louise, especially since he had no room to talk. If Louise was truly as terrible as Hank said, then there were no words to describe _him_.

She had climbed up the stairs that lead to Louise's backdoor, but decided against going in. She was hosting that lunch with Alexandra and the other ladies from town and it would be unbecoming of her to storm in all hot and bothered. She would come later, she decided. She would bring some of Alexandra's sweet tea and offer her sincerest regrets. Aunt Louise could never stay angry for long, and she'd probably offer her niece some open faced sandwiches and they would laugh about everything that had happened.

Everything would be fine.

By the time she reached her house, her entire body was drenched in sweat and her hair was sticking to her head at odd angles, making her look like a disheveled mess. She was glad her aunt wouldn't be home, or else there would surely be some sort of condescending remark about her appearance that she just didn't want to hear. She scoffed when she looked at Miss Maudie's yard, knowing that seeing Hank soon would be inevitable. Shaking her head, she decided to push everything that happened earlier that day out of her mind. She'd shower, take a nap, and wake up feeling exponentially better.

She slammed the door open, and to her embarrassment she was greeted by almost every lady in town.

Except Louise.

"Jean Louise," Alexandra gasped once she caught a glimpse of her niece. "What on earth—"

She was mortified and at first she couldn't even find the courage to say _anything_. "I was—I was at the Eddy," she stammered as she made excruciating eye contact with almost everyone in the room. Maudie was the only one who flashed her a sympathetic smile. "I thought, I thought Aunt Louise—"

"She's fallen ill," Alexandra said, though it was obvious that she didn't believe it. "So I'm holding the luncheon instead."

"Oh," Jean Louise said, forcing a smile. "Now, I would lo-love to get acquainted with everyone here, but well I'm goin' to take a shower."

"I think we'd all prefer that." Alexandra responded, giving her niece a fake smile. Jean Louise wanted to scream, but instead she left the room as quickly as possible.

-o-o-o-

After showering and dressing in cooler clothes, Jean Louise allowed herself to seek refuge in her bed (though Alexandra swore she spent way too much time there). She pulled her mother's journal closer to her as she decided was probably one of the worst days she'd ever have. She should've known how awful it was going to be after wearing the dreadful dress that Alexandra had picked out (it squished her breasts and made her look as though she had one boob instead of two) and fighting with Aunt Louise. This was the biggest fight she'd ever have with her aunt, and now she was left feeling guilty. Earlier she had been so convinced that she was right about Hank—that he was a good person and could prove everyone wrong. However, after hearing Aunt Alexandra's poor remarks about his etiquette classes as well as everything he had to say about Aunt Louise, she wasn't sure if she was right anymore.

And now she was stuck with him.

Surely, she couldn't back out of the debutante ball now—it was less than two months away! Louise had already bought Hank's suit (she did it as a courtesy to her niece, and warned Hank not to ruin this for her) and Alexandra was so excited about the event that she was actually almost tolerable (almost). What made it worse was that Hank was _everywhere_ , it would be hard for her to get rid of him. Even when they weren't in this situation, he was always there—talking to and flirting with her. Now that she allowed him in her life in a more intimate manner, she was quite certain that she wouldn't be able to get rid of him.

She was hot, angry and irritable. Part of her wanted to just put her mother's journals away and stop reading them. After the incident with Emmett in the park that July night, her mother's entries were shorter and more distressing. She was disappointed to find that her mother still courted Emmett, despite the fact that he was cruel and downright abusive towards her. It seemed as though Emmett and Katrina and her other acquaintances in Montgomery were sucking the life out of her. As she gave more of herself to these people, who clearly didn't appreciate her for who she was, she didn't write much. Jean Louise was certain her mother would give up writing in these journals as she made more of an effort to fit into her society.

Then Simon died.

Simon was Jean Louise's cousin—Clara and Libby's older brother—who died when he was six under her Eugenia's supervision. Her mother had made a makeshift pool for him and Clara to swim in, and he was being daring, jumping into the pool from tree branches. It was dangerous, and Eugenia told him not to do it, but he didn't listen. When Eugenia put Libby down for her nap, Simon ended up snapping his neck.

And her mother blamed herself.

Jean couldn't stop herself from sobbing when she read about her mother's shock at finding her nephew's dead body in the pool. She could almost hear her four-year-old cousin Clara screaming out of fear. Her heart beat almost as fast as Eugenia's did when she ran from Charlotte's house to her mother's—sobbing about how she had killed her nephew. The weeks that followed Simon's death were even more distressing than Eugenia's time with Emmett, and despite the fact that Jean Louise could easily shut the journal and block these memories from her mind, she found that she couldn't stop herself no matter how upset it made her.

 _Louise and I are being sent to the old Buford mansion to take care of grandad,_ the latest journal entry began—approximately a month after Simon's death. _Mama says it's because he's incredibly ill and can't keep a nurse, but I think that she's sending us away because we're too much of a burden for her. Ever since daddy died she's_ always _sent us away._

 _I don't remember to Buford place much, but I do remember grandad. He's always been a bitter old man who has never quite taken to Louise (she is absolutely miserable at the prospect of going to stay with him), and I'm not sure how I feel about this change of scenery. I don't know how I feel at all anymore, honestly._

 _I guess it'll be better than being stuck in Montgomery. This place, a city that I've loved since childhood, has become too tainted with all of these negative memories. The towns surrounding the Buford place are small and quiet—it'll be easier for me to go undetected there. At least Lou and I will be closer to my cousin Maudie. I've always been fond of her, and I think that it would be nicer to be close to her. Louise, of course, is absolutely miserable. Being stuck at the Buford place would disrupt her summer ritual of flirting with nearly every boy her age and subsequently breaking their hearts when she tells them she's not interested. I'm sure this isn't how she imagined what her life would be after graduating school, but I'm thankful for the fact that we will be together._

 _For the first time in a long time, I feel relieved. For the foreseeable future all I'll have to worry about is making sure grandad is okay and that Louise doesn't kill him. I won't have to make excuses to Emmett or Katrina or the other ladies. I won't have to go to stupid bridge games or be forced to see how heartbroken Lottie is. I won't have to walk on eggshells whenever I see mama. I'll be able to breathe._

Jean Louise inhaled sharply, closing the journal and shoving it underneath her pillow. She supposed that this was one of the more uplifting journal entries Eugenia had written a while. Despite the fact that it was still full of melancholy, it also showed a vague hope for a fresh start. The Buford Place was in the land behind Finch's Landing and not too far from Maycomb, which only meant one thing.

Eugenia would meet Atticus soon.

Part of her wanted to skip ahead to when her mother first met her father, to see what the woman's first impressions were, to see how they came together. Despite the fact that her mother's entries nearly broke her heart into pieces, she simultaneously found herself giddy with excitement to read about her mother first meeting Atticus. What were her first impressions? Did she love him right away? What ever happened to Emmett?

Her mind was swimming with questions that burned to be answered. Questions that could only be answered if she kept reading.

For a while she was beginning to regret her decision to read these journals. They were full of such sadness that only her mother knew about, and she felt as though she was intruding on her mother's memories. But now it was like she had something to look forward to again. Certainly mother's told their daughters about their love stories, about how their families came to be. If Eugenia was alive Jean Louise would like to think that these stories would be shared with her in one way or another.

Exhausted from the events of the day and the extreme heat, Jean Louise found herself drifting to sleep. Despite the fact that it was broad daylight, she slept well, her dreams full of pleasant thoughts about her parents and what possibly happened between them.

That was, until she was being shaken awake.

Groggily, she opened her eyes. She could see the sun setting in the window—she had probably been sleeping for a long time, and was surely in trouble.

"Jean Louise," it was Aunt Alexandra. Her voice was shrill, she sounded unhinged. Had someone told her about the unsavory things she and Hank had done at the Eddy?

"Jean Louise," she said again, a sense of urgency in her voice—was she crying? "Your Aunt Louise has had a heart attack."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: First of all, I'm so sorry for my recent absence, between work and traveling back and forth from my apartment to my hometown everything has been quite a mess. I think my activity on here will continue to be sporadic for a short while, but I'm finally getting back in the groove with this. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, so I deeply apologize if it's not well done. This chapter is a little (well very) rough, due to a time jump and my overall lack of medical knowledge.

Secondly, I'm going to post a trigger warning for sexual assault at the end of this chapter (I know this ruins what happens but I would rather people be prepared since this is a sensitive subject that unfortunately affects so many people). If the way I portray it in this story is offensive in anyway, please let me know because I surely do not intend to post anything that is offensive or hurtful to anyone. This is going to be a rough chapter, but I appreciate all of the support that I have been getting throughout this story.

-o-o-o-

The hospital waiting area was bright and white. It wasn't cheerful nor comforting, and instead it was sterile and mechanical, and seemed to make Jean Louise think that a whole lot of dying occurred here. The hospital was small, just like the town, but at this moment it seemed huge to her. It reminded her of the time she was twelve, just waiting and waiting and _waiting_ after Jem had his heart attack on the football field. It was as though she was twelve again, young and naïve and wishing that everything would be fine in the end.

She had tried not to cry, but the fact that they were being kept away from Louise for so long while being given minimal information (she's alive…but not awake…not responsive…wouldn't be a surprise if she were in pain) was enough to make Jean Louise lose all control of her emotions. She sat a few seats away from her brother, her arms crossed at her chest and face nearly raw from the tears she let freely fall down her face.

Jack was not with them. Upon arriving to the hospital after discovering her unconscious on their bathroom floor, he had been told that since he had no true familial relation to Louise he would not be allowed to be with her while they ran tests—so he lied, saying that they had secretly eloped, that he was actually her husband. They allowed him with her, but Jean Louise doubted they actually believed him—she knew her uncle would have gone off like a crazy person until he finally got his way. Jean Louise wasn't sure if she actually wanted him with them, however. She could not recall a moment in her life where Jack was anything but jovial and lighthearted and she _knew_ that he wouldn't be that way in this circumstance.

"Wanna drink?" Jem asked, clearing his throat. "Coffee or water or somethin'?"

He had been fidgeting the entire time they had been there. Tapping his foot, running a hand through his messy hair, sliding so far down in his seat it looked like he was going to fall off it. He was going crazy, just as she was, but she was certainly better at hiding it. "No," she responded curtly. He opened his mouth as if he was to say something, but changed his mind before departing.

Atticus and Alexandra were away from her (Jean Louise purposefully sat away from her family). Atticus had brought a book with him and skimmed through it for a short while before putting it on the ground underneath his chair while Alexandra occasionally sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. For some reason, Jean Louise was furious at her Aunt. Alexandra always had something condescending to say towards Louise and always seemed to not like the other woman and Jean Louise couldn't help but to think that this was all some sort of sick show her aunt was putting on.

Her eyes and throat burned, and she soon regretted the fact that she declined Jem's offer of a beverage. She had lost track of how long they had been waiting in this awful silence, but it felt like an eternity of agony. She could feel her heart pounding as though it was a scared bird caught in a cage, and wished that _something_ would happen. She couldn't believe that it had been mere _hours_ since she had fought with Louise and then fought with Hank. She _should've_ gone back to Louise's after the Eddy, she thought to herself as another wave of tears fell from her eyes, she should've gone back and at least noticed something was wrong.

Maybe then she wouldn't be sitting in silence.

She obviously couldn't remember the day Eugenia died, but she wondered if Jem and Atticus associated it with the same feelings of misery and regret that she was associating with this day. She wondered if they wished they had done something different in the days leading up to Eugenia's death, if there was something that could have been done to prevent it. Were people always this blind to things like this happening?

When Jem came back with an extra glass of water for her, she pretended that she didn't want it despite the fact that she was grateful he thought of her. When he wasn't looking she guzzled the entire thing in just a few sips, hardly feeling satisfied. She wanted to scream, to cry out, to do _something_ besides just sit here and wait in excruciating silence.

But none of that would make Louise alright.

She couldn't imagine anyone understanding just how incredibly _stupid_ she was feeling at that very moment. She damaged so many good aspects of her life for Hank, and now it could well possibly be too late for her to be able to fix anything. A flood of emotions suddenly hit her as she realized she regretted saying yes to the debutante ball, regretted asking Hank to go, and most certainly regretted hurting her relationship with her favorite aunt over a _boy_ who wasn't even worth it. He was brash and selfish and rude and everyone had been right when they said that Jean Louise had no business talking to someone the likes of him. And now she was trapped.

Though, the more trapped she felt, the more determined she was to get herself out of this situation.

She'd cancel it all, she decided. The debutante ball, the courtship (if you could even call it that) with Hank, _everything_. She wouldn't be like her Eugenia, who stayed with Emmett even when he made her feel like a prisoner, she'd free herself and everything would go back to normal.

Though she knew that wasn't possible, not really.

First of all, what if Aunt Louise died? What if she fell victim to the same heart disease that took the lives of so many other members of her family? Even if she did survive, she certainly wouldn't be the same woman she was before—she'd be frail and sickly—exactly what she never wanted to become. Secondly, no matter what the circumstance was, Alexandra would be _furious_ at the fact that Jean Louise would want to stop her participation in the debutante ball. Alexandra had already spent a lot of time and money ensuring that this would be a good night, and Jean Louise would ruin it. She didn't even want to think about Hank and his bubbling anger over the fact that she would no longer let him control her or her actions. She couldn't imagine what is reaction would be, and frankly, she didn't want to.

But she knew she had to do all of this.

-o-o-o-

Jean Louise was the first one to see Jack enter the waiting room the next morning—all of them (to Aunt Alexandra's dismay) had spent the night in the waiting room in hopes that Jack would come out sooner rather than later. Despite the fact that they hadn't been in the hospital a full twenty-four hours, it looked as though Jack hadn't shaved in three days, and there were bags forming under his eyes indicating that he had spent the entire night awake. He didn't have his usual smirk on his face, and his eyes lacked the glisten they always seemed to carry. Instead his face was blank and expressionless as he approached his family. At that moment, they were all expecting the worst.

"She made it through the night," he explained, and Jean Louise immediately felt weightless. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat. "It was touch and go, actually—just for a short while, but she's better than before. She was out cold for most of the time, her heart had stopped beating when she had come in and they gave her a batch of different medicines to see which ones would work…partially the reason why things got a little questionable, to be honest…but they found some that stabilized everything and she's actually wakin' up a bit now. She's real groggy, but that's completely normal. They think she'll be fine, but they want her here for the foreseeable future, to do tests and make sure nothin' happens again." She could hear both her and Jem audibly exhale, as though they had been holding their breaths the entire time their uncle had been talking. Fresh tears formed in Jean Louise's eyes again, threatening to fall free.

"Well, that's a miracle," Aunt Alexandra said, her voice almost at a whisper.

"Has anyone called Hattie?" Jack asked, looking around at his family members. "Lou was askin' for her when she was wakin' up."

The four Finch's looked exchanged glances, awkward expressions on each of their faces. In all of the excitement, all of them had failed to call Harriet, the youngest Graham sister. Jean Louise couldn't help but wonder how her other Aunt would feel about being kept in the dark for this long. Jack seemed to have noticed that none of them had tried to contact her, sighed and said: "I'll go call her now," before adding. "I'm sure Dr. Reynolds would let you see Louise." And as quickly as he came, he was gone.

-o-o-o-

Louise had fallen back asleep before they had a chance to come in the room, and Jean Louise couldn't help but to think that her aunt looked like a child in that big white bed. It didn't help that Louise was small to begin with—hardly reaching five feet tall—but the fact that she had gotten so sick before being admitted to the hospital made it even worse. She was pale, thinner than she had ever been in her life, and actually looked close to death (though Jean Louise couldn't really say that she had seen anyone close to death before). At first Atticus allowed just her and Jem some time with their aunt, and for a few moments the two of them just stood there awkwardly, watching their aunt's chest slowly rise and fall as she breathed.

"I caught a glimpse of mama," he whispered to her. "When she died, I mean. She looked like this 'cept she had blonde hair and was a little bit taller."

She scowled. "Why," she whispered harshly. "In the hell would you tell me that?"

All he could do in response was shrug.

-o-o-o-

The first thing that Harriet did when she saw her sister in the hospital bed was cling onto Jem and Jean Louise for a full five minutes. When she had burst through the doors of the hospital room (still not waking Louise, despite the fact that it had been nearly five hours since they had all entered) she looked flustered. She hadn't been crying, though it was obvious that the woman was visibly upset. Her dress was wrinkled and looked as though she had thrown it on haphazardly and her blonde hair was framed her face in a bunch of frizzy curls. Louise frequently stated that of all of the Graham sisters, Eugenia and Harriet looked the most alike, and Jean Louise couldn't help but wonder if this is what her mother looked like whenever she was under duress.

When Harriet finally let go of her niece and nephew, she looked down at her sister, and sighed. "She looks like Edie," she whispered, referring to her mother. Jean Louise wondered if Harriet meant Louise looked like Edie had just before she died—just like Jem referred to seeing their mother dead.

It took another hour for Louise to wake up.

It began with her clearing her throat. Then, she began gripping the bedsheets besides her as she attempted to sit up, her eyes still closed. Finally (and with much struggle—the lights were too bright) she opened her eyes, seemingly alarmed to see all of those family members in the hospital room. The moment she began stirring, Jack had rose to his feet, at the ready to get anything she might need. Jean Louise felt her eyes burning again.

"You all look like you've seen a ghost," she said, her voice hoarse, a small smile growing on her face. "Can someone fetch me a glass of water?"

Without saying or doing anything, Jack left swiftly in order to get the water. Mindlessly, Jean Louise went towards Louise and threw her arms around the woman, beginning to sob. "This isn't the type of water I wanted," she said cheekily, trying to show her niece she was alright. "But it's fine all the same."

-o-o-o-

Despite the fact that she would ultimately be deemed healthy, Louise was forced to stay in the hospital for a month. She was frequently chastised by the nurses and Dr. Reynolds alike for not taking her health as seriously as she should—her heart issues obviously ran in the family, and if she had been more proactive about her health, all of this could have been prevented. Once it was certain that everything was going to be fine, everybody felt at ease again. Alexandra stopped crying and Atticus stopped acting so awkwardly, Harriet began teasing Louise about her current state while Jem wasn't as fidgety and Jack seemed to be himself again.

And Jean Louise was almost thankful for all of this happening.

It wasn't as though she was glad her aunt had a heart attack (she certainly wasn't), but the fact that Dr. Reynolds kept her in the hospital for so long meant that she didn't have to deal with Hank. Most of her days were now either spent at the hospital with Lou, Hattie and Jack or with Atticus at the office where she helped him and Jem on all of the work they got behind on during this ordeal. The only time she caught glimpses of Hank was when she was coming home to shower and change her clothes, or from the window of her father's office as he was going into the Jitney Jungle for work. She wasn't forced to be with him or think about the debutante ball or any of that stuff—instead she was allowed to focus on her aunt without any interference.

And for that she was incredibly grateful.

Even in August, when Louise was released from the hospital and allowed to go back to her home, Jean Louise still did not have much time to see Hank. Harriet had gone back to her husband in Montgomery, and Jean Louise began spending almost every waking moment at her Aunt and Uncle's house. While Louise was at the hospital, Jean Louise had the chance to apologize to her aunt for everything she had done for Hank's sake. Her relationship with her Aunt was better than ever, and she chose to spend her spare time keeping her Aunt company and helping out around her house rather than being with Hank.

One night, nearly a week after Louise had been released from the hospital, when Jean Louise had gone home to grab some extra clothes, Alexandra had cleared her throat and requested to speak to her niece in private. Instantaneously, Jean Louise felt her heart jump up to her throat, knowing that Alexandra was going to chastise her about the debutante ball.

"Yes, Aunty?" Jean Louise asked, trying to be polite. Despite the fact that she was absolutely terrified, she was going to tell her aunt the truth—that this entire debutante thing was a mistake.

"I've come to a decision," she said firmly, clasping her hands together. "With the debutante ball in less than a month—"

"I don't think I should do it," she interrupted quickly, her voice strained and shaky. Alexandra widened her eyes.

"If you were patient enough to let me finish," she remarked. "You would've heard me say that I've decided we shouldn't do this year's ball."

"I just don't think it's the right time, with Aunt Lou being sick and everything, and Hank is just…" Louise began breathlessly before realizing what her aunt had said. "Wait, _what_?"

Aunt Alexandra looked mildly pleased with herself. "You're miserable, Jean Louise," she replied. "With your Aunt being sick and us moving this month, you're downright miserable and it would be wise for you to focus on those changes in your life rather than a debutante ball. I also told that Mr. Clinton that I refuse to help him any longer… his actions are repugnant despite my best efforts and I refuse to allow him to besmirch the Finch name with his distasteful behavior."

Jean Louise reckoned she should have at least been slightly insulted by what her Aunt had said, but instead found herself feeling increasingly overjoyed by the fact that it was _Alexandra_ saying they should back out of the debutante ball. "He had the audacity to argue with me today," she explained. "He was very…crude. I told him that I thought this entire thing was a mistake, and if I ever caught him talking to you again he'd deeply regret it."

He would surely be angry about that. He didn't like Alexandra in the first place, and the fact that he was telling him what to do had to have been a sore spot for him.

But she didn't care.

"I appreciate everything you've done, Aunty," she said, trying to make it seem as though she had been grateful for this entire mess. "And I'm sorry Hank was such an ass about the entire thing."

Usually, Alexandra would have been angry at Jean Louise using such language, and while she didn't look amused, she didn't have anything negative to say. "Surely, if we went along with this, it would be a disaster. I think next year's debutante ball will be much better."

Jean Louise would just have to deal with that another day.

-o-o-o-

By the time she had gathered up the belongings to take to Jack and Louise's, it had become dark and still outside. The air was still hot and muggy, and made Jean Louise sweat as she traveled from her home to Louise's. Despite the fact that she was still quite upset by the fact that she had to move, she found herself happy that there'd at least be a shorter walk to Jack and Louise's house.

"Hey, Scout," a voice whispered from somewhere behind her when she was halfway towards Louise's house. "Scout, c'mere."

Immediately, she realized it was Hank. Scowling, she turned swiftly and saw him standing there, leaning against his car with his hands jammed into his pockets. "C'mere." He said again.

"My Aunt's expectin' me."

"Just come to the Eddy with me," he said. "I want to talk to you about Alexandra."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a Tuesday and it's _dark_ ," she said. "No one will be there."

"I want to talk to you in private."

"I have to go, Hank."

Quickly, he approached her. He put a firm hand on her upper arm and had a mischievous smile on his face. "Please, Scout," he said, his sandy hair falling into his eyes. "I just want to talk to you for fifteen minutes—I want to tell you how sorry I am about this entire debutante ball thing—then you can go right to your Aunty's, she won't even notice you're late."

As she looked into his eyes, she remembered the boy that she and Jem had played with in childhood. She remembered reenacting books and movies with him on their front porches. She remembered him having to grow up too fast. She remembered him staying while Dill did not. A flood of guilt washed over her.

"Fine," she said, firmly grasping onto her belongings. "Just fifteen minutes."

The car ride to the Eddy was hot and quiet. The only things she could hear was the humming of the wheels beneath his car and the distant sound of bugs outside. When they got there, he quietly directed her to their usual spot—by the water and away from the sidewalk. It must have been late because they were the only ones there, and the entire area was silent, giving Jean Louise an eerie feeling.

"Your Aunt's a bitch," he said bluntly, digging his foot into the dirt. "She told me _I_ ruined the entire debutante bullshit."

"She said you weren't very nice to her,"

"I didn't think I had to be,"

"I think it's only common courtesy." She replied curtly.

"You and your family and these stupid _manners_ ," he spat. "Do you know how pretentious you all look?"

She felt her cheeks heat up as though they were engulfed in heat. "I don't understand why I'm here," she replied. "I'm _leaving_."

When she had turned to go, he grabbed her arm so hard it forced her to drop the things she had intended to bring to Louise's (for some reason she had refused to let go of them), making her angry. "I don't understand what you want," she said. "My entire family was right about you—you're trash and I'm leavin'—"

Forcefully, he put his wrist over her mouth while she was in mid-sentence, causing her to choke. "Listen," he said, his amber eyes meeting her brown ones. "You owe me for all the dumb etiquette lessons and suit fittings and lectures from both Alexandra and Louise."

Her breathing became so quick she was nearly hyperventilating as she attempted to bite down on his wrist and scratch at him at the same time. As she continued to struggle, he pushed her to the ground. It was then she was able to kick him (she wasn't sure where) and attempt to run away. Ignoring the clothes she had thrown on the ground, she began running, though she didn't make it far.

He kicked her behind the knee, causing her to fall on the ground once again. Before she could scramble to her feet, he had pinned her to the ground. "Hank," she whispered, nearly pleading. "Hank, what are you doing?"

The memories of the little boy playing with her and Jem became tarnished. Instead, Henry Clinton was now a being of anger and rage—a person who couldn't control himself. He was no longer the childhood friend she had fond memories of.

Instead he was her worst nightmare.

He pressed his wrist down on her throat, making it impossible for her to breath. As her eyes welled up and she choked for air, she couldn't help but wonder when Hank had transformed into such a spiteful monster. "You're not going to make a noise," he said sweetly, though she now knew him for what he really was— _evil_. "I can easily do that again."

"Hank," she whispered. "Hank, please stop."

He looked as though he was about to strike her, but refrained. "If you don't move, this'll be over soon enough."

As he maneuvered his way to the lower half of her body, she felt her chest heave in and out in a frenzy of panic, and she felt as though he was choking her all over again. Fearing what would happen if she cried out or tried to fight him, she allowed her tears to roll down her face as she closed her eyes and prayed for it to be over.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: A few things before this begins! After this chapter, there'll be about nine left and I decided to change things up a little bit. Five chapters are going to be in Scout's POV (like the first half of the story) and the other five will focus on various characters important to this story to bring on a certain dimension as the family has to come to grips with what happened in the previous chapter. When the chapters are not in Scout's POV, I'll have a header with who the chapter is focusing on (like I did with this chapter), and when the chapters _are_ in Scout's POV, there won't be a header (to be consistent with the first ten chapters). Since this is my first time doing this, this chapter might be a bit of a mess (which I sincerely apologize for!). Additionally, the next few chapters are going to cover a very short amount of time (perhaps just a few days), focusing on the direct aftermath of Jean Louise's experience. I'm also sure this is obvious, but I'm going to put this out there just in case, the remaining chapters of this story are going to handle certain sensitive topics. I'm trying my best not to be insensitive while writing them, and I'm doing research as I'm writing just to make sure everything I write is accurate and not poorly done. Sorry for this monster of a note!

-o-o-o-

 _ **Louise**_

Impetuous. That was what she had always been described as—careless and hasty. She could weaken a man with a bat of her eyes, reduce any of her sisters to a ball of nerves with a simple glance, and could drive her mother crazy with a small smirk or flip of her hair.

But she wasn't like that anymore.

But now, she was a worrier. Not by nature, of course, but she was becoming so familiar with the feeling of apprehension that she almost had herself convinced that she spent nearly every day of her life worrying. She couldn't tease men like she used to. She only had one sister left, and wouldn't dare do anything to antagonize her (deep down Louise suspected she was afraid of losing Hattie—though she'd never admit it) and her mother was dead.

She was the only one left.

Of course that wasn't true. There was Hattie, Maudie, her three nieces and one nephew. She still had family, but she was losing her grip. She was no longer impetuous or carefree—she was a cautious worrier. She may not seem that way to Jack or Atticus or even Jean Louise and Jem, but she had felt the change within herself years ago and since then there was no going back.

"You were reckless with your health," Doctor Reynolds had said to her after all was said and done with her heart attack. He stood above her bed, looking down on her with a look that she swore was a look of disapproval. "By now I thought you would have known better than to be so careless."

It was obvious that he didn't know her one bit. Compared to the days of her youth, she was careful now. She was still witty and strove to women like Alexandra and Stephanie Crawford miserable, but she wasn't the impulsive young thing she used to be. If anything, she considered herself cautious these days.

She supposed it had to do with all the death she had experienced in her forty-four years of life.

She always wanted to pinpoint her anxiety back to Jean's passing so many years ago, but at this point in her life Louise figured anxiety built up gradually over time. It started with finding her father dead in the lawn as a child, increasing with the deaths of Simon, Charlotte, Jean, her aunts and mother, finally leading up to the point where there were so few family members left that she couldn't help but to expect the worst.

So it really came to no surprise to her that it felt as though her stomach was eating itself when hours passed and Jean Louise still didn't come back, just as she had promised. Louise, much to Jack's displeasure, paced about the house, peering out of windows and doors—growing more and more hopeless as the sun slowly set, enveloping Maycomb in a sheet of darkness.

Her mind drifted back to awful memories—not of her sisters or mother dying, but of a time long ago when she was a teenager. When that Emmett had beaten Jean and left her all alone in the middle of a park late at night, not caring what happened to her after that. When she had carefully followed them throughout that evening ready to defend her sister at a moment's notice, only to fall asleep in a bush when Jean needed her the most.

She never told anyone that story—not Hattie, not Jack and surely not Jem or Jean Louise. It was something she held deep within herself, too ashamed to reveal it to anyone. Sometimes, she wondered if Jean ever told Atticus that—allowing herself to be vulnerable and open in a way that frankly scared Louise.

But to be honest, it wasn't too hard to scare Louise these days.

It wasn't as if she was afraid of anything happening to _her_ , rather she feared anything happening to Charlotte or Jean's children. She found it ironic, and perhaps a little sad, that the only Graham sisters to bear children were the ones who ended up dead far before they were supposed to, denying four children their mother's. Jean and Hattie tried their best, they really did, to tell their nieces and nephew about their mothers and to give them lives that Charlotte and Jean would want for them. However, Louise couldn't help but to think that she had failed them miserably.

She had never wanted to be a mother.

There was a time, as her marriage was ending, after both of her sisters left their children behind, where there was the possibility of that _almost_ happening. But when she tried to imagine herself bringing a child of her own into this world, into a situation where she knew it would surely be miserable, she knew she had to end it.

It was illegal. It was risky. But Jack did it. As a result, she was rendered sterile—she could still clearly remember the morose look on his face when he told her that it had become inevitable (almost as if he thought that she would possibly want children in the future)—she was lucky she didn't die, he said.

But she didn't care. If anything, she felt _relieved_. She not only didn't need to worry about _that_ situation, but she would never have to worry about it again. She wasn't meant to be a mother, she didn't have the patience, the compassion, the sheer maternal instinct she saw other mothers possess. She would ruin a child's life, she thought, she could hardly take care of herself.

She was too impetuous. Too carefree.

Maybe, then, she was doing it all wrong with Jem and Jean Louise. Maybe these years spent in Maycomb was damaging them, was ruining them, was exactly everything that Jean _didn't_ want for her children. Louise hardly knew what she was doing with her own life, even after forty-four years, so what made her think that she could possibly be a good influence on her niece and nephew? If she was so certain she didn't have a maternal bone in her body, what made her think that she knew what was best for Jem and Jean Louise?

Was this harrowing feeling that something was wrong with Jean Louise a legitimate one, or was Louise simply delusional?

But she didn't have a feeling a mother worried for her daughter would have (or maybe she did—how was she to know?). Instead, the anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach was similar to those dreadful feelings she had that night Emmett had hurt Jean.

It wasn't as if she was _told_ something bad was going to happen. It wasn't as if someone came running to tell her that Jean was being hurt—

she just _knew_.

Just as she knew now.

-o-o-o-

"What exactly do you think is wrong?" Jack asked, wiping the thin film of sweat that had formed on his forehead. Despite the fact that the sun had long retreated past the clouds, enveloping Maycomb in the darkness of night, it was still hot as hell outside. Louise felt foolish, clad in a long-sleeved dress and a sweater (she was usually cold these days), sweating and panting as the two of them walked towards town, but at this point she was beginning not to care.

She had always been known for being careless, after all.

"I don't know," she said firmly, probably for the thousandth time in twenty minutes. "I just have a feeling."

"That's not rational," he told her. "You can't just go off of a gut feeling, you need evidence—"

"You obviously don't know how life goes," she remarked hastily. In most instances, she appreciated Jack's advice, but at that moment all she wanted to do was slap him. "Sometimes a gut feeling is evidence enough."

"If you're worried about Jean Louise, then why aren't we walkin' towards the house?" He asked testily, motioning his head back towards the direction of Atticus' house.

"If I thought she was at home, I wouldn't be worried."

"Then why are you worried?" He stopped walking, making her grow increasingly impatient.

"You must be, too, or else you wouldn't have come out with me."

"First of all, you've just had a _heart attack_ —I know you wouldn't take no for an answer and would still have gone out even if I refused, and I wasn't going to let you go by yourself." He replied, crossing his arms. "Second of all, you didn't answer me."

She sighed. She almost did it, almost told him the story of what happened with Jean and Emmett those many years ago, but held back. Rare tears flooded her eyes, but she didn't want him to notice that. All she could muster out was a feeble: "please believe me."

And he did.

"Alright," he said slowly, looking at the ground as Louise quickly brushed her eyes with the back of her hand, pretending not to notice. "Well, if she isn't at home, where would she be besides our house? Would anyone need her for anything? Would anyone give her trouble?"

The moment he said trouble, she almost felt her knees go weak.

Hank.

Maybe she was wrong about him, she thought, trying not to imagine the worst. Maybe he was just a boy with an attitude but who had good intentions.

However, that was what her mother thought about Emmett.

Bile inched up her throat as her eyes locked with Jack's, and she felt her body flood with regret. She should have told someone, anyone, about Emmett—about the lessons she learned from watching Jean's experience with him, about how Hank reminded her _so much_ of that dastardly boy. But no, she was foolish and scared and didn't want to make herself vulnerable and didn't tell anyone what she knew. She swallowed hard, though the feeling of acid still lingered in her throat. "We need to go back," she said, her voice barely above a whisper (if she had spoken at her normal tone her voice would surely quiver). "To the house, get the car, go to the Eddy."

"The Eddy? Why?"

"I just _know_."

-o-o-o-

Maybe she had maternal instincts after all.

She was right—Jean Louise was at the Eddy. She was sitting in the dirt, her knees drawn up to her chest, her face hidden. In the dark all Louise could see was the fact that her hair was messy, though she knew that in the light her niece would look worse—bruises on her face and arms, perhaps a bloody nose or lip, dirt everywhere.

But then she noticed the fact that her undergarments were around her ankles.

She nearly vomited, nearly fell to the ground, nearly screamed—but instead she stood there, frozen, looking at the shell of her niece in disbelief.

Jack grabbed her hand with both of his. She had been right.

She had failed her niece.

She shook Jack off of her and with weak knees she made her way to Jean Louise. She knelt, nearly falling, to the ground besides the girl, who flinched in return.

She found herself once again whispering the words: "don't be mad at me."

Just as with Jean all those years ago, Louise asked for forgiveness. Though she didn't say it, she asked to be absolved of her dreadful mistake—the fact that she hadn't come sooner, the fact that she hadn't been there to protect her sister (in this case, niece), the fact that she had done everything wrong and that this could have been prevented.

A dry sob was the response.

-o-o-o-

As Louise collected her nieces scattered belongings, Jack carried Jean Louise to the car. At first she recoiled at his mere touch and tried to fight him off of her, and Louise watched as Jack, in a moment of rare weakness, buried his head in his hands, if only for a few moments. She wasn't sure how he was able to comfort her, to earn her trust, but she found herself watching him gently lift her unmoving body and carry her to the car.

He would take her to Atticus', they decided in silent agreement (with him pointing in the direction of their home and her firmly nodding), and with each second that passed she found her heart beating harder and harder.

What was going to happen? What were they going to do?

As Jack drove, Louise sat in the back with Jean Louise, her thoughts going back to the time where she allowed Jean to rest on her shoulder as they walked to Charlotte's house. Jean Louise was still curled in a ball, her eyes hidden, her breathing deep and ragged. She clutched onto Louise's hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

What would Jean do? What would she be thinking?

She had forgotten what it was like to be full of such intense rage and despair at the same time (she had been filled with the same feelings that night she woke up in the bush to discover she had been too late, that she had failed to help her sister). She wanted to kill Hank, punch his face so hard and for so long that he would no longer look human. Set him on fire. Run him over. _Anything—_ though she knew it would never make up for what he had done to Jean Louise.

And for that she wanted to weep. To weep for what Jean Louise had lost—what was taken from her.

But she didn't. She sat there, both her hands grasping onto Jean Louise's, her eyes locked on her niece.

What were they going to do?

When they pulled in front of Atticus' home, Louise noticed all of the lights were off at Maudie's home—was Hank there, sleeping like a baby after destroying Jean Louise's life? Newfound rage she didn't know was possible filled her as she gripped her niece tighter.

What were they going to do?

Jean Louise refused to go into the house when Jack told her where they were. It wasn't as if she said anything, she was still completely silent, but the way she tightened her body and refused to look at her Aunt and Uncle was a good enough indication that she didn't want to go home. Jack looked at Louise helplessly.

What were they going to do?

She offered to go in, to find Atticus and to tell him what had happened (though the thought of actually saying it made her want to vomit), perhaps the comforting sight of her father would make Jean Louise feel safe, feel secure, allow her to feel comfortable to go inside her home, to tell her family what happened.

But that would surely be like a nightmare to Jean Louise. To have to relive the traumatic experience that she just went through, to have to think about things of what to do next in regards to her health, in regards to telling authorities. The more Louise thought about it, the more she realized that she wouldn't want to go inside either, if this was _her_.

What were they going to do?

When Louise attempted to slide out of the car and run to the house, beginning the cyclone of events that was going to follow after this dreadful night, Jean Louise only gripped her Aunt's hand harder. For some reason, Jean Louise wanted _her_.

 _Go_ , Louise mouthed to Jack, who was still watching them. _Go inside_.

He looked like a deer in the headlights, but he went.

She kept her grip on Jean Louise's hand firm as she rested her head on her niece's legs, causing the girl to flinch, letting out another dry sob. "I'm sorry," Louise whispered, the first time she had spoken in what seemed to be an eternity. It sounded as though she was in a tunnel, her voice distant and so unlike her own. But she meant those two words, so simple and so overused, she was sorry for _everything_.

She hadn't realized how dark it was until she was left alone with Jean Louise in the back of Jack's old car that smelled of must (they left the windows open and the car out far too many times in the rain) until she noticed how incredibly close they probably were to Hank. Her heart sank and she once again felt herself grow nervous, afraid of the fact that anything could happen while the two of them laid defenseless in the old car, without the keys.

Though, the fact that Louise was thinking Hank did this was merely an assumption. Jean Louise disclosed nothing about what happened that night.

But who else could it be?

She heard Atticus and Jack's voices growing louder, though she was unable to hear what they were saying exactly (all she knew was that they sounded rushed, worried, afraid). She gripped Jean Louise's hand just a little bit tighter. "I'll be here the entire time," Louise whispered.

-o-o-o-

Years ago, when she was young and carefree and traveling throughout the East Coast, a boy named Seymour informed her of a weather phenomenon known as the "eye of the storm" typically seen in tropical cyclones, characterized by incredibly calm weather amidst the chaos.

That night, as Alexandra panicked and Jem filled with rage and Jack attempted (albeit frantically) to take control of the situation, that they eye of the storm could also apply to humans.

That eye of the storm was Atticus.

Despite the slight hint of panic in his voice and the tremor that developed in his hands, he was calm—almost serene. Though clearly bothered by what had happened to his daughter, he kept his worried voice firm and stood up straight with a sense of dignity. "We'll take care of this," he had said, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. "We have a rule of law here, this won't go unnoticed."

If anything, that seemed to make Jean Louise's sense of apprehension worse. Initially, she had refused to move from the car, refused to look at her father, uncle or aunt in the eye—it wasn't until Jem, in a fit of rage, worry and anguish, came running out of the house upon hearing what had happened from Alexandra. It was his voice that garnered Jean Louise's attention, it was his voice that brought her to the house.

She was settled on the sofa, her knees still brought up to her chest, resting under her chin—as though she was trying to make herself as compact as possible, hoping that somehow it'd make her disappear. Finally, however, she stopped hiding her face, allowing her swollen eyes and bloody mouth to be revealed.

What the hell had he done to her?

She still hadn't said a word, her eyes focused on a spot on the floor as her family around her was beginning to fall apart. Louise sat next to her niece, her hands resting on Jean Louise's knee, her cheek pressed to her shoulder.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Jem said, his voice shaking. His face was as red as his eyes, which were flooded in a pool of tears. "I—I," he stammered, running his quivering hands through his hair.

"Don't use that language," Alexandra responded, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"You're worried about propriety, _now?_ "

"Jeremy, don't speak to your Aunt that way."

"Well obviously there has been a breach of all rules tonight—"

"Enough," it was Jack. He was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets and a look of deep concentration on his face. He hadn't been crying, though it looked as though he had aged a good forty years. "This is enough," he said. "This is not what we need to be doing—"

"Well, what should we be doin'—"

"Jeremy, if you just wait _one second_ you'll hear," Jack snapped back. It was unlike him to be brash, especially to his family, but it was needed. "She needs to see a doctor—"

"You're a doctor—"

"I'm her _uncle_." There was a wild look in his eyes, one of nervousness and apprehension. It took her back to that day, years ago, when she showed up in Nashville asking for his help. It was the first time she saw any sense of uneasiness about him when she asked him for something. She knew that if he had to, Jack would certainly give his niece the medical attention she needed, but this wasn't a skinned knee or a busted head. This was far different.

"Yes, but she's comfortable with _you_ , I'm sure she'd rather have _you_ help her." Jem began. His face was red and by now his entire body was shaking.

"Why don't we ask her what _she_ wants?" Louise was quite certain that they were all surprised to hear that come from _Alexandra_. The woman, who had been silent for most of the time, now had her eyes set on Atticus. The hard-set expression on her face made it look as though she was made from stone, and unlike her nephew, she stood perfectly still and straight. If it weren't for the fact that her face had gone red, Louise would have thought that the woman was completely fine.

It was these rare instances, when Alexandra wasn't being her Miss Manners self, that Louise really respected her. She had a complicated past with the woman, always feeling as though Alexandra was too critical and too harsh on everyone. But there were moments, such as this one, where Louise realized that perhaps deep down Alexandra really cared, albeit in her own way.

The woman pursed her lips. "We're sitting here talking and arguing and making a fuss," she continued, clasping her hands together (were they shaking?). "All the while, we are actually doing _nothing_ about the situation at hand."

She was right.

"Well, what do we do?" Jem asked, furrowing his brow.

Before Alexandra even had a moment to answer her nephew, Atticus spoke up. "We'll call Doctor Reynolds," he replied, and Louise could instantaneously see Jack's face muscles relax. "We'll call the Sheriff. We'll get this taken care of." He was using his courtroom voice, a firm voice full of strength—one that had been able to convince his family time and time again that everything would work out fine. Quickly, without falter, he added in a softened voice: "is that what _you_ want, Jean Louise?"

Closing her eyes tightly, she shook her head.

What were they going to do?


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I can't believe it's been over a year since I started this. First of all, I'm incredibly sorry that it's taken me this long to update this story. I came into a rough patch last year and all inspiration was gone. I had to re-read this entire thing in order to figure out where I was last year, so I'm hoping that going forward there aren't too many inconsistencies between what is posted and what I'm writing now. I want to thank everyone for their feedback on this story, it genuinely means so much to me that so many of you are interested in this fic.

I'm hoping that the way I'm portraying the rest of this story is not offensive to anyone. This is an incredibly delicate and important subject matter that I'm writing about, and I want to make sure that I'm writing it in a manner that isn't offensive. I don't want to seem like I'm victim-blaming or anything here, because that is definitely not my intention. If I ever do anything that is offensive or not right, please, please, please let me know!

-o-o-o-

Hindsight always brings unwanted clarity to any situation.

In the weeks following the incident (she could never dare call it what it really was) Jean Louise could recall with vivid detail every interaction she had ever had with Hank. Every movement, every conversation, every feeling. With each memory, she realized that she should have known that this was coming, it was all out there before her. His actions and words provided evidence that only something sinister could come from this relationship. The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her, _everything_ should have indicated that something like this was bound to happen.

When she thought of it, she couldn't help but to think that it was all her fault. She should have noticed the signs, should have realized that she was throwing herself in the lion's den as some sort of sacrifice. She brought this upon herself by not being cautious, by submitting herself to his whim. She allowed herself to become some plaything of his and he took advantage of her and took away her very sense of self.

She had once heard that women often take after their mothers. In the past, she thought that this meant that typically girls would grow up and get married and housewives just like their mothers did before them. She didn't dare to realize that she could follow a similar trajectory as her deceased mother. Maybe she should have taken the journal entries about Emmett more seriously. Maybe she should have looked at the journals as though it was a real woman writing it, not just some fantasy that she had built up in her head for so long.

Each time she looked in the corner of her room where the journals laid, collecting dust, she grew angry. She was angry at herself for saying yes to the debutante ball. She was angry at herself for asking Hank to go with her. She was angry at herself for looking in the attic at all of her mother's things. She found herself growing angry at _Eugenia_. She was angry at the woman for the journal entries. But most of all, she was angry at her for dying and leaving her behind, unable to actually share the stories of what had happened to her in the past. It was probably silly, but she didn't care. Mothers were supposed to be there to tell their daughters about their pasts and to give advice.

And hers wasn't there.

In the twenty-four days that have passed since that dreadful night, all Jean Louise wanted to do was sleep. She engulfed herself in a cave of blankets, covering every inch of herself in the hopes that perhaps if she simply closed her eyes hard enough, this would all simply disappear. Growing increasingly worried, Alexandra nearly had to beg for her to spend some time out of her room. She could hardly eat and only brought food to her lips when forced to by Alexandra or Louise. She barely talked since that evening—only giving one-worded answers (most of them 'no') whenever her aunts asked her questions.

But it wasn't like it mattered, she was hardly talked to anyway.

At the moment, she insisted that she _not_ place charges against Henry, it was almost as if she didn't exist to Atticus anymore. He could hardly look at her, let alone speak to her. His eyes weren't cold or hard or filled with anger, however. Instead, they were filled with a deep _sadness_ , though Jean Louise firmly believed that it hardly compared to the pit of despair that had formed inside of her.

Jeremy, on the other hand, did have anger in his eyes. It was almost as if he couldn't believe the decision that Jean Louise had made when she refused to press charges and instead hid herself from the world. "It's not right," he heard him tell Louise through gritted teeth, it was only afterwards that she realized that he had been crying. "It isn't right that _he_ gets away with this while _her_ life is _destroyed._ I'll find him, I'll kill him— "

"Justice shouldn't be taken into our own hands," Louise had responded grimly. "You of all people should know that, Jem."

So instead of taking justice into his own hands, he simply refused to acknowledge his sister.

It wasn't as if Alexandra was attempting not to speak to her. The woman was awkward and nervous and simply didn't know what to do. Her attempted conversations with her niece typically included her clearing her throat and many "ums." Countless mugs of tea were poured, though they were never consumed. The fact that she didn't know what to do or how to approach her niece made Alexandra uncomfortable, though she was silently determined to get through to her, given how Atticus and Jem were reacting. She just didn't know how.

Louise and Jack _talked_. And talked. And talked. And talked. And talked so much that sometimes they lost their train of thoughts and changed topic so quickly that no one knew what they were talking about anymore, not even themselves. Jack was full of awkward pauses and one-sided conversations about Victorian literature—nearly anything that didn't have to do with what had happened to his niece.

That night, Jean Louise refused to allow her family to call anyone—not the doctor, not the sheriff, not anyone. From living in Maycomb all of her life, she _knew_ what it was like, she _knew_ that no matter what, everyone would talk. Jack, therefore, as a trained medical professional, was essentially forced to examine her.

"I never thought I'd ever have to do that," she had heard Jack tell Atticus three days after the fact. The only response he received was silence.

There was no awkwardness or uncertainty when it came to Louise. The woman, determined to make her niece feel some semblance of normalcy, chatted and talked about anything and everything. However, with the more she talked and the less Jean Louise responded, it was easy to tell that Louise was beginning to become unhinged. Her voice would crack, she would repeat sentences, but all the while she would continue to attempt to keep her usual level of confidence and determination.

This afternoon, Louise was sitting on the sofa next to Jean Louise, fiddling with some needle work, despite the fact that Louise had no clue what she was doing with it at all. "Your Aunt Hattie called today," she said mindlessly as Jean Louise watched her nearly stab herself with the pin. Hattie had come almost immediately upon hearing the news of what had happened. She was all tears and sighs and sadness—Jean Louise was quite certain that Louise told her to leave. "She saw some comedy show in Montgomery the other day, she described it to me in detail, though I don't think I can quite explain it like she did…"

Jean Louise slowly began to drown her aunt's voice out, instead staring blankly in front of her. She didn't want this anymore. She didn't want the feeling of dread that came with each morning. She didn't want the awkward glances, the sad expressions, the constant need for small talk. She wanted to be left alone, to be void of her own thoughts. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break everything in her sight.

Instead she was silent.

Two days after he attacked her, after he _destroyed_ her, Maudie had come to the house. Jean Louise was still in bed, still in pain and bruised and crying and wishing that she was anything but alive. Though she didn't hear a word of what Maudie said, she could hear Jem yelling afterwards.

Hank had never come home.

Jean Louise supposed he simply disappeared after what he did, like the coward he was. Maybe he realized he was wrong and so wracked with guilt that he couldn't show his face in Maycomb anymore. Maybe he didn't care and thought what he did was right and simply didn't want to face the repercussions of his actions had Jean Louise decided to report him. She supposed she'll never know, though she wasn't sure if she actually did want to know.

She hated him and she feared him all at once.

Once she was certain that he was gone and once the bruises had almost completely faded away, she had attempted to go back to school. In the back of her mind she supposed that she was safe, that she wouldn't run into him again, that this wouldn't happen again. But the morning was hardly over and Jean Louise had not only vomited in the sink, but was reduced to a pile of tears in the principal's office. Atticus had been at work so it was Alexandra who retrieved her with Louise in tow, and Jean Louise hadn't been at school since. She didn't care if she would fall behind or fail or not graduate. Her life, as she knew it, was over. She didn't need to finish school. She didn't need to finish anything.

What she needed was for this nightmare to be over.

-o-o-o-

It's strange what such a thing could do to a family. Conversations became awkward, almost tense. There was silence more often than not. Angry sighs and sad glances replaced any happiness that had once existed. It was almost as if the darkness that consumed her radiated off of her and into the bodies of her family members.

What little time Atticus spent at home was spent in his study. She couldn't hear whether he was talking to that picture of her mother or not, but she frankly didn't care. It was quite evident now that he was foolish for doing so—Eugenia couldn't hear him, and if she did, it made no use to him anyway.

Jeremy, on the other hand, was almost never home. When he was he frequently snapped at his aunts, glared at his sister, and barely talked to his father. His anger was palpable, radiating off of him like heat. It was almost as if his family members tried to stay away from him out of fear of his wrath.

It seemed as though Alexandra was falling apart. The delicate life that she had built for herself was fraying at the edge and falling apart. This was not a situation that propriety and manners could fix—she was at a loss.

Each evening, Alexandra and Jean Louise ate in silence. Most nights they were joined by Jack and Louise, who at least filled the vast spaces of the house with noise, no matter how useless it was. But this night, however, they ate alone. Atticus was in his study and Jem was God knows where.

After dinner, Jean Louise retreated to her room in her usual fashion. As she did each evening since her attack, she lifted one of her mother's journals off of the pile. She held the delicate book in her hand, tracing the cracks in the leather with her fingers. She flipped it open, and almost was almost instantaneously filled with anger. "You're lucky you're dead," she muttered, throwing the journal haphazardly on the pile with the others.

She crawled into the confines of her bed and covered her head with her blankets. This, however, was no refuge. No matter how comfortable she was, it never stopped the nightmares from coming.

They were always the same. She was engulfed in a darkness that was so heavy it was impossible for her to see or breathe. At first, she always thought that it was the overwhelming weight of the darkness that was crushing her, only to realize that it was something else.

Hank.

Her dreams always played out like that evening did, replaying her worst memory night after night, as if she wasn't already tortured enough. In her dreams, she'd beg for it to be over, and it always felt as if it never would be.

In the middle of the night she'd always wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down her face, her mind filled with screams though the room remained silent.

Except for this night—this night the screams weren't in her head.

But they weren't hers this time.


	13. Chapter 13

_Jack_

As a general practitioner, he never saw more than he could handle. He occasionally gave stitches, bandaged wounds, and diagnosed and treated illnesses. There were a few instances where he was called upon to perform some task that weighed heavily on him, but for each of those instances he was faced with an opportunity to perform a relatively "simple" task (though nothing in medicine is really simple once you think about it) that balanced the more negative aspects of his career. Science and medicine were his passions, though he ultimately decided to do bits and pieces of everything rather than specialize in something like surgery or what have you because from early on he recognized the devastating effects of something going wrong. In his opinion, it was better to know pieces of everything rather than specialize in something that could weigh heavily upon you. For each bad thing that happened, he could counteract it with a splint or some stitches or advice on how to remedy a baby's cough. Until this point his life and career had been some sort of balancing act.

But there was nothing to balance now.

Perhaps he was being punished, he frequently thought to himself. Being punished for not doing more with his career, for utilizing the most of his medical talents on those who needed it when he was working. In hindsight, he supposed he was cowardly, taking on the "easy" cases while others were cutting people open and dealing with disease and actually having to confront their feelings about losing a patient or changing someone's life. Or perhaps he was being punished for something else—for that dreadful experience where he had simply gotten everything wrong.

Looking back on that day so many years ago, he knew Louise shouldn't have come to him. It was illegal and risky and perhaps she asked too much of him but she was desperate and knew that he was the only one who would do it. He could still remember the tears pouring down her face as she _begged_ him to do it and he was so afraid of the sight before him that he felt as though he had no other option but to say yes.

But he messed it up.

Maybe it was the fact that he had never done it before, or the fact that his best friend was laying before him, or the fact that he wouldn't be able to face anyone if something went wrong, but his hands had shaken and he was nervous and while he succeeded at doing what she wanted to be done, he took so much more.

He almost took her life.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes he can see the blood. To this day, he can precisely remember the mistake he had made and what went wrong and how. Whenever he thought about it he cringed, knowing exactly what he did and how it could have been prevented.

It didn't matter that he messed up and nearly killed her—she was happy, she was relieved. She recovered and bounced off, living as though nothing happened while he was full of regret. Even to this day, she tells him that by doing that he saved her, but those words never really made a difference to him.

And now, he was thrust into the very situation he never thought he would face. When he saw his niece that dreaded evening nearly a month ago, he had a sinking feeling she'd refuse to be seen by anyone, and he was right. But she couldn't just be left untreated—not after that.

So, he did it.

He had to force his hands to stop shaking by clenching them into fists at his sides, he had to maintain his uneven breaths and hide his anxiety—all while his niece lay before him, her eyes shut, her face expressionless as purple bruises made themselves evident around her neck and wrists. He didn't want to look at her in this state, but he had to.

Even now, the image of her lying there filled his mind when he shut his eyes, making it impossible for him to sleep. The night after the incident, when Atticus told them that they should go home, his mind was full of images of her—bloody, beaten, crying, _ruined_. _He_ didn't want to be alone—and he could only imagine what his niece was feeling.

He hardly had to ask Louise to sleep in his bed that night. Her eyes were gaunt and bloodshot, tears threatening to escape at any moment. Somehow, she looked smaller, like she was trying to fade into the background after seeing such a horrendous sight. She didn't want to be alone either, she had explained, her eyes not meeting his as she wrung her hands. "I don't want to be alone," she explained, and he agreed.

For the past twenty-four days, she slept in his bed, her face pressed between his shoulders, her body small next to his. She smelled of something floral, though he couldn't quite put a name to it. But it was comforting enough to allow him to forget the events transpiring around him, even if just for a few hours. Each morning they'd wake up with her face pressed against his chest, holding on to his arm almost for dear life.

When the phone started ringing in the middle of the night, they both jolted upwards. Sleep was hard to come by these days; even when they lulled themselves into a slumber, it didn't quite feel like a deep sleep, so when the telephone rang it had almost felt like they had been awake the entire evening.

"I'll get it," he said quietly, silently fearful of what was on the other end. "You go back to sleep."

She didn't listen. Instead she followed him to the telephone, her eyes wide, her face expressionless. "Jack Finch," he said into the receiver, to discover that the operator was going to transfer him to Atticus' house.

Silently he had been hoping that wasn't the case.

"Hello?" He said into the receiver, nervous of what was going to unfold before him.

"You need to come," Alexandra said on the other line. Her voice did not waiver, but Jack knew something was wrong.

"What happened to her?" Jack asked, unable to think of what else could have happened to his niece at this point. His mind flashed back to that night – to her on the ground, to the bruises all over her – he shuddered. Louise brought one hand to her mouth while the other one reached out to grab the receiver, which he did not hand over.

"It's not Jean Louise," Alexandra said, almost in a whisper. "It's Jeremy."

-o-o-o-

"Did she say what happened?" Louise asked in a low tone as the two of them hurried down the street. It was still dark outside, and Alexandra nearly begged the two of them to walk over. _They'll hear your car_ , she said, thinking of the others in town. _They'll know somethin's the matter_. Sometimes he wanted to punch her for being so absorbed with what other people thought. They weren't important, they didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that their family was falling apart in front of their very eyes.

"She didn't," he responded. "She just said we needed to come. That something happened to Jem."

"I can't even imagine," she said, shuddering. "This is awful."

Jack had noticed a change in Louise following her heart attack, and it was one that only manifested itself more within her after Jean Louise's attack. When he looked at her, she almost seemed shrunken, like a smaller and more intimidated version of herself. Her eyes were always glassy, as though they were perpetually filled with tears, ready to burst at any moment. She barely ate—only enough to keep her heart medication down without any complication—and the only time she slept was when she was curled beside him.

However, her demeanor changed when she was in the presence of her niece. Whenever Jean Louise was in the same room as her, it was like Louise had come to life—not daring to show Jean Louise what life had become for her since her niece's attack. He commended Louise for trying, but took note of the fact that with each passing day, Louise looked more and more defeated once they came home.

"She didn't even say what happened," he muttered, almost to himself. Alexandra was all secrets these days—too afraid that if she opened her mouth, the neighbors would hear something about what had happened. She almost always spoke in whispers, she never dared to talk about what had happened to Jean Louise—she was losing control.

"I don't know if I wish she had or not," Louise responded as they approached the Finch house. "I feel like I'd be worryin' either way."

He gave her a shrug as they walked up the steps leading up to Atticus' front door. They gave each other an apprehensive look before he gently knocked on the door.

-o-o-o-

Blood. That was the first thing he saw. Blood.

Vibrant, red, _everywhere_. On the inside of the door, on Alexandra, on the walls, on the floor. On the ground, there was a broken vase, and throughout the foyer and into the living room things were out of place, with traces of blood on them.

He heard Louise inhale sharply beside him. "Alexandra," she began, sheer shock riddled through her voice.

"We have a problem," his sister responded.

"Where's Atticus?" He asked, grimacing at the sight of the room.

"He's with Jeremy," Alexandra responded.

"How about Jean Louise?"

"In her room,"

"How about a _doctor_?"

" _You_ are a doctor."

He felt his face grow red and he was faced with the sudden urge to scream. Not again, he thought to himself as he observed the blood all over the room. He didn't want to have to mend another family member. He didn't want to have to see another terrible sight. He was tired, damn it, he was tired of seeing his family members like this.

He blamed Hank.

He was always taught not to hate people. It wasn't humane, Caroline used to tell him, it simply wasn't humane to hate someone. People weren't inherently evil, she'd tell him—they were all good and simply influenced by evil.

He wasn't sure if he believed that anymore.

If one person was inherently evil, it was Hank. He may have been blinded by what had happened to his niece, but now he was quite certain of it—Hank was evil. How else could somebody possibly do what they did to an innocent girl? How could someone be so absolutely heartless? His heart swelled with rage every time he thought of Hank and he was quite certain he hated the boy.

Because he was evil.

"I don't have anything," he finally said after what seemed like an eternity. "I haven't practiced in years Alexandra, I don't have any supplies anymore, I don't have anything to— "

"You can make do with what we have— "

"With what you have? What the hell do you even have?"

Alexandra looked cross. "We have plenty—we have bandages and cleaning pads and— "

"I don't even know what's _wrong_ with him, Zandra, I can't even know if those things will be enough— "

"He looks pretty bad," a voice said from the hallway. "It probably won't be enough."

It was Jean Louise. She had blood on her hands and on her face. There were bags under her eyes, which looked dull and lifeless. Her face was expressionless, almost as if she was unfazed with what was happening around her. "What happened to him, sweet?" Louise asked, almost reveling in the fact that Jean Louise was speaking.

"I think you should ask him," she responded.

-o-o-o-

More blood.

Jeremy was in his bed, barely sitting upright. There was blood dripping from his forehead, there was blood coming out of his nose, his left eye was nearly swollen shut, and his knuckles were cut badly. Jean Louise had trailed behind Jack and Louise as they walked, and Louise was so shocked by the sight of her nephew that she nearly fell backwards into Jean Louise.

Jack inhaled deeply. He didn't even know where to begin. His eyes glanced towards his brother, who was pale, sitting vigil next to his son.

"What in the—" Louise began, her eyes wide.

"I found him," Jeremy said, his voice strained (Jack couldn't even imagine what other injuries his nephew had). "I saw him when I was driving home."

Hank.

"What did you do?" Louise asked, her voice raising.

"I was goin' to kill him," Jeremy said, and Jack knew his nephew meant it. "I was going to kill him. I pulled over and I pummeled him until all I could see was his blood."

Louise grimaced beside him. "It looked like he fought back," Jack said, observing his niece. Jean Louise was looking straight ahead, her eyes vacant, her face still expressionless. How was she coping with this all?

"He's worse off than I am," Jeremy replied, coughing.

"Where is he?" Louise ask, her voice almost a whisper now—almost as if she didn't want to ask the question _or_ know the answer to it.

"I left him there," Jeremy said. "Where I found him—he was unconscious when I left."

Jack looked to Atticus again—expecting his brother to say something, _anything_ , but the man was silent. Jack could only imagine what his brother was going through, watching his daughter suffer and now hearing what his son had done, but he couldn't help but to be surprised at the fact that Atticus was merely _shutting down_. It wasn't like him, and frankly, it frightened Jack. He noted that Atticus and Louise had barely looked at each other, causing his stomach to drop. Nearly two weeks ago they had gotten into an argument (in actuality it was Louise who had raised her voice while Atticus just stared) because Atticus contemplated sending Jean Louise to a boarding school. Jack remembered that was the first time Louise had cried in front of any of them about what had happened, and it broke his heart anytime he thought about it ("treating her like some sort of problem you can banish won't solve anything," Louise had sobbed—Jack had meant to ask her about the argument, but was too cowardly to do so).

"It most certainly wasn't in Maycomb, was it?" Alexandra asked. Jack wanted to slap her—he knew that her primary concern was other people knowing about this, and not the repercussions of this evening's events.

"Close enough," Jem responded. Alexandra looked like she was going to vomit.

Jack knew that they were going to have a lot more to worry about than the neighbors.

-o-o-o-

By the time Louise and Jack were walking home, the sun was rising. He was able to patch Jem up as best as he could, though he was still concerned that his forehead needed stitching up, which he was unable to provide. It took him hours to wash the blood off of his hands, and he had to change into one of his brother's shirts since his had been ruined by all of the blood. Something weighed heavily on him—something within him uneasy about everything that had been happening to his family in the past month. These memories would be imprinted on his mind forever, and he could only home that time would bring some sort of reprieve to him.

"Tell me a joke," Louise said, her voice indicating just how tired she was.

"What?"

"Tell me a joke."

After putting some thought into it, he presented her with one of the first jokes he had told her when he had first met her. He had nearly forgotten it, fumbling and stammering at points where his memory failed him. once he finished, she didn't laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It wasn't very good."

"I wasn't goin' to laugh anyway," she admitted with a sigh. "it's just been a while since I've heard one. You did a mighty fine job, Jack."

"Do you remember when I told you that one?" He asked, a smirk played on the corner of her mouth, though it never came into fruition.

"Maudie's husband's funeral," she replied. She was right.

"That seems like forever ago,"

"It was."

"What would you have done if I asked you to marry me?" He asked, thinking of the time Jean Louise asked if he loved Louise. She rolled her eyes at him, making him almost smile—it was almost like her old self was coming through.

"When?" She asked.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, when were you askin'?" She clarified. "Are you talkin' about when I was eighteen, ten years ago, or now?"

He paused. "When you were eighteen." He said definitively.

"I would've said yes in a heartbeat." She said quickly, causing him to almost laugh.

"Why's that?"

"My mother would've hated it," she said. "Plus, you weren't bad to look at."

"Definitely a reason to marry someone."

"Obviously," she responded. "It wouldn't have lasted, anyway. We've never loved each other that way." She was right, of course (she always was)—her friendship was all he needed from her, nothing more (especially these days).

"Things probably would have been different if we had, though."

"Are you sayin' that if we had gotten married all those years ago that none of this would've happened?"

"Yes," he said at first. She gave him an inquisitive look. "I don't know—but you've heard what they say, that even a small event can change everything."

"We can't change what's already happened."

"What a mess they're in," he observed. "What a mess _we're_ all in. I can only imagine what Jean would think."

"There's no point in that, either." She said dryly.

Honestly, he was surprised. "You two were closer than anyone." He said.

"Of course we were," she said, shrugging. "But she's dead now—she can't hear or see us, she can't offer us any help. There's no point wonderin' what she would do, we need to face the present ourselves, and not leave it to the dead."

"You've got a point."

"I know I do." She said as they finally approached their front porch.

"What do you think is going to happen?" He asked as they entered the house. Rose Aylmer mewed loudly at them, as though she was trying to yell at them for being neglectful of her. Absent-mindedly, Jack scratched her head.

"I'm not sure," Louise replied honestly. "I didn't imagine things getting much worse, but I have a feeling that they're going to."

Unfortunately, he believed her.


	14. Chapter 14

The aftermath of Jeremy attacking Hank was far more dastardly than anyone could imagine. The Finch's hoped that perhaps after the incident, Hank would simply leave like he had before, retreating into his own little corner of the world, refusing to make contact with Jean Louise or her family.

But they were wrong.

Hank was found passed out on the side of the road where Jeremy had left him and was treated by Doctor Reynolds at the hospital. When he finally came to, which was nearly a week after Jeremy had beaten him up (her brother hadn't been lying about Hank being far worse off than he was) he'd holler to anyone who would listen that it was that damn Jem Finch who left him like this., and that he was going to pay for it.

He was going to press charges.

Jean Louise heard her Aunt Louise speculate that Hank was only doing it because he had no money. He had always been on the rough end, Louise had observed, and he probably thought that pressing charges against Jem would get him some cash he needed to finally get out of Maycomb once and for all. "Hell, I'll just give it to him," she heard Louise tell Alexandra a few days after Hank started his mess. "I'll give him whatever he needs to get as far away from here as possible. I'd give him a one-way ticket to hell if I could."

Jack figured that Hank was embarrassed. She heard her uncle tell Jem one evening that it probably hurt the boy's ego to be put in such a vulnerable state. "After what he did to Scout," his voice was shaking when he talked to his nephew. "I reckon he deserves far worse than this."

One evening as she sat on the sofa, watching as Alexandra sewed a table cloth, Atticus requested that she talk with him in his office.

Her heart skipped a beat when he asked her. If she was being completely honest, she was almost glad that her father was requesting to speak with her. It had been so long since he had even _looked_ at her. He was her backbone, after all, and maybe now he'd finally give her what she needed—the hope that everything was going to be alright.

"This is a difficult situation," he said as she sat down in one of the chairs in his office. He sat behind the desk, his eyes not quite reaching hers. On the desk was the picture of her mother on her wedding day, eyes bright, a big smile on her face. Jean Louise wondered what it felt like to be that happy. "I know you've been through a lot."

 _Here it is_ , she thought as her heart began to beat a little faster. _He's going to tell me what I need to hear_.

"You need to press charges against Hank." He finally said after a few moments of silence.

Her stomach dropped.

That was _not_ what she needed nor wanted to hear.

Immediately after Hank attacked her, Atticus had begun to subtly pressure her to press charges. As a man driven by justice, she assumed that he just didn't understand why his daughter wouldn't want to have her attacker be punished for all of the terrible things he did to her. But her father, who was humble and strong and kind, just didn't understand. His mind thought as a lawyer, systematic and driven by a need to execute justice against those who committed crimes. But she just wanted to forget.

Pressing charges would mean that she'd have to relive the entire thing again, in front of everyone in town.

She wasn't worried like Alexandra was about what the people in town would think. Hell, they could think whatever they wanted about her and Hank and the entire situation. But her mind flashed back to Tom Robinson's trial, and while everything now was one hundred percent different than what they were during Tom's trial, the mere memory of it brought dread to her heart. Now more than ever she knew that people could be cruel, and she didn't want to have to face all of the different reactions she'd be receiving.

But most of all, she didn't want to tell them what happened.

To this day, a month after her attack, her throat clenched with panic whenever she thought of Hank and what he did to her. Even though she hadn't seen him since, she could still feel him on her, could still smell his breath on her face, could still feel the pain that he caused as though it was happening at that very moment. It was like she was trapped in some hell on earth, unable to escape from her nightmares.

For whenever she closed her eyes, _he_ was there.

How could she sit there on a witness stand and face him and the entire town and lay herself bare when she could hardly get herself out of bed and functioning each day? How could she possibly explain what it was like to live now after all of this had happened? Very early on she had decided that it wasn't going to make a difference—no amount of punishment was going to make up for what he did to her. No jail sentences or apologies or anything would remove him from her nightmares or remove her from her hell.

It'll be something she carried with her for the rest of her life.

Each morning when she woke up and was overcome with dread she tried to remind herself that she was lucky—lucky to be alive, lucky to have no physical traces of the attack on her.

But she had the mental ones. And perhaps those were the wounds that cut deepest—going into the farthest corners of her mind, disrupting every happy thought and memory that she had ever had.

She was miserable.

Hot tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her father, who looked calm and almost serene. At that moment, she wanted to take her fist and slam it into his face—shattering the peacefulness that he was emitting. She wanted him to feel what she did, to understand how hard it was to sit before him when he could hardly look at her let alone understand why she didn't want to do what he wanted her to.

"No," she said. She had intended her voice to be strong and firm, but instead it came out as almost a whisper, barely escaping the lump that had formed in her throat.

He cleared his throat. "Now Jean Louise, I understand— "

"That's the thing!" She said, her voice raising to a shout. "You don't! You don't understand!"

"Just let me say— "

"I'm not doing it!"

"If you press charges against Hank," he was using his courtroom voice now. The voice that he used whenever he tried to reason with her when she was being difficult as a child. "Then if he presses charges against Jeremy, they might go easier on him— "

"So, you want me to do this to make things easier on Jem?" She asked. Her cheeks were growing pink and the tears that she had been trying to contain were now rolling down her cheeks. "Maybe you shouldn't go around beatin'— "

"I'm not saying what he did was right," Atticus said. "But it's done and— "

"And you want me to make things easier for him," she said, almost gasping for air between the tears and the panic. "Well, I'm not going to do it."

The look on Atticus' face was sheer disbelief. "But Jean Louise," he tried to reason.

She wanted to scream at him. To tell him just how hard it was for her to internalize everything that had happened to her, and that telling the entire town as if she was on some sort of display would be just too much. She didn't want to do it. She wasn't going to do it. "I refuse." She said. "I won't do it. I don't care."

She wanted so desperately for him to get up from his chair, to embrace her in a hug and tell her that he understood, that he was sorry. She wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be fine and that the madness that raged on within her was going to subside, that things were going to be normal. She wanted him to tell her that the nightmares would go away and that she would be happy again and that she'll never remember what it feels like to have him on top of her, crushing her.

But he didn't.

After a few moments of silence, Atticus finally looked his daughter in the eye for the first time in almost a month. "Maybe Maycomb isn't what is best for you,"

Her stomach dropped, more tears fell.

Her mind drifted back to an argument that Atticus and Louise had (in all actuality it was a one-sided argument with Louise doing all of the yelling) a few days after her attack. He had inquired about the boarding school that Louise and Jean had gone to, stating that he was interested in sending Jean Louise there. "Maybe Maycomb isn't what is best for her," he had said grimly. Louise nearly screamed and said that he was trying to hide from what had happened and told him it was weak (she remembered Louise cried and that was something else that haunted Jean Louise). Atticus was silent on the topic ever since, until now.

"I don't want to go to boarding school," she said quietly, looking down at her hands.

"I wasn't thinkin' that," he said. "Both your Aunt Caroline and Aunt Harriet said that you are more than welcome to live with either of them."

So, he hadn't dropped the topic of sending her away. He had been talking about it all along. He didn't want her here. She was his reminder of everything that had gotten wrong—without her here, everything would be well on the way to normal for Atticus Finch.

"When?" She asked grimly.

"As soon as you'd like."

Harriet lived in Montgomery with her husband, which was a good hour closer than Mobile (where Caroline lived) was. There she would be where her mother grew up, would be close to friends of Jean—people who had known her mother since she was a child.

And that's why she said, her voice void of any emotion: "I'll go with Aunt Caroline."

Atticus didn't look relieved like she thought he was going to. His eyes were still set on her, his face blank. He still wanted her to press charges against Hank, she just knew it. She knew that he was hoping that she would change her mind and say she'd stay—only for the purpose of making things easier on Jem. Maybe he thought that the prospect of being sent away would change her mind, would make her submit herself to what _he_ wanted her to do.

But she wasn't going to do it. She was a woman who stuck to her convictions, and she simply refused to press any charges against Hank.

Tears still rolling down her cheeks, she got up and left his office, slamming the door behind her.

"Scout," Jem had said as she walked down the hall, causing her to turn around. His head was still bandaged, his one eye still swollen shut—she decided right then that he looked like an idiot.

"What?" She asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"W-what happened?" He asked, caught off guard at the sight of his sister crying.

She felt spiteful, her anger boiling within her. "I refused to make things easier for you by pressin' charges against Hank," she nearly spat, causing him to look genuinely surprised. "So Atticus is sendin' me away."

Jem stammered for a few moments. "Scout," he said, his voice low. "I don't want you to make things easier for me— "

"Well Atticus does."

"I don't want you to…I'll talk to Atticus," he said, his mind going faster than his mouth, causing him to stutter. "I don't want you to go."

"Well, I do." She said, though she wasn't quite certain that she was telling her truth. Instead of going to the living room, she decided to seclude herself in her bedroom. As she passed Jem she said: "I hate Maycomb and these people—especially all of _you_."

She knew that cut him deep.

It didn't make her feel any better.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: This is kind of an awful chapter. I started it over the summer, and then completely lost my groove. If it seems scattered and an absolute mess, please forgive me. When I was planning this story out initially, this was always going to be sort of a transition chapter, but since it's been a while since i've visited this story, it's a little worse than I thought it would be (I promise the following chapters will be better). After this I'm going to try to tie some loose ends and have this reach some sort of conclusion. I'm currently on spring break and am re-reading previous chapters and trying to revisit some old ideas, so hopefully the following chapters won't be as terribly written as this one. I appreciate all of the kind feedback I received, and I hope y'all haven't given up on me (and won't after this chapter). It's been a long road, but there will be closure for the Finch family.

-o-o-o-

 _Jem_.

At a young age, he vowed that he was never going to let anything happen to her. His mind drifted back to the sheer fear he had felt the morning after Bob Ewell attacked them. He could hardly remember where he was or what had happened, but he remembered being afraid—afraid that something had happened to Scout. Upon waking up that morning, he had bolted upright in his bed, demanding to see her. He was so blinded by his own fear that he didn't even realize that she was next to him the entire time.

She had been equally afraid that something had happened to _him_. She had cried when he woke up, flinging her little arms around his neck. It might have hurt at the time, but at that moment all he cared about was the fact that his sister was alive and safe.

That moment seemed like nothing in comparison to what was happening these days.

He was driving her to the train station, where she'd hop aboard all by herself and go three and a half hours south to Mobile. The mere thought of her going away was enough to drive him crazy. She was his sister—their father's daughter—and he couldn't understand how she could simply be shunted aside like some sort of problem.

When he found out that she would be leaving, he went to Atticus' office and pleaded like a child. "Don't punish her any more than she's already been," he said, knots forming in his stomach. "It's _my_ fault Atticus, not hers—I deserve whatever comes to me."

His father merely looked at him. "It's what's best for her health." Was all he said.

Jeremy was angry—at Atticus, at Hank, but most of all at _himself_. He shouldn't have done it. He should've just left Hank be when he saw him hitch hiking that night. He was just so full of rage and anger that he couldn't let the bastard get away with what he had done. He wanted Hank to feel as Jean Louise did that night—ambushed and damaged and alone.

It came at a heavy cost, however.

The delicate balance that they had been trying to preserve was faltering. Hank was pressing charges. Jean Louise was leaving.

Jeremy already knew that he was going to be truthful whenever his day in court came. He was going to tell them that he was blinded by his need for revenge—that Hank had raped his sister and he deserved everything that came to him. He didn't care if Jean Louise didn't want to testify—he was still hell bent on making that bastard pay.

But maybe he should have approached things differently.

There were two things his mama taught him before she died: never fight with anyone and never give false apologies. He may not have followed her lessons on the former, but he sure as hell wasn't going to forget the latter. He wasn't sorry for what he did to Hank, and he wasn't going to apologize for it—no matter what the punishment.

What he was sorry for, however, was what this did to Jean Louise.

He was so determined to avenge his sister that he never actually thought of what all of this would do to her in the long run. He deeply regretted that, though he wasn't sure how to put that regret to words.

"Why Mobile?" he asked as he stood with her to get her ticket. "Why not stay with Aunt Hattie? She's much closer."

Her eyes were cold and hard. "To get farther away from you." Was what she said.

He deserved it—every cold glare, every hateful word—he knew he deserved it, but it still hurt him nonetheless. "I'll call for you," he said.

"Don't bother."

"Scout," he said, clearing his throat. She glared at him. "Scout, I'm _sorry_."

"That means nothin' to me."

"I tried to talk to Atticus, tried to reason with him," he continued. "I'll keep talkin'—you'll be back soon enough."

"I don't think I want to come back." She said harshly.

He tried to hug her before she boarded the train, but she refused. Instead he watched her as she handed her luggage to the conductor and climbed the stairs that led to the compartment. All the while, hot tears formed in his eyes as the train's whistle blew, indicating that it would soon be departing. He stood there, firm and still with his hands shoved in his pockets and watched as the train carried his sister away. She probably wasn't looking out the window, but he didn't care, he was going to see her off.

He was going to make this right, he just didn't know how.

-o-o-o-

He didn't go home after dropping Jean Louise off at the train station. Instead, he parked his car outside of Jack and Louise's house. Louise was in the side yard, hanging the laundry out on the line. Silently, he got out of the car and began to help her.

The basket of wet clothes wasn't halfway empty yet when she stopped. While he continued hanging clothes he could feel her eyes on him. He couldn't help but to wonder if he had disappointed her—had let her down for doing this to Scout. She had cried when Atticus told her he was sending Scout away. She had pleaded with him to reconsider, to just clear his mind and realize that maybe this wasn't the best option for his daughter.

He didn't listen.

"Jem," she said softly, taking hold of one of his arms. He finally looked at her, his vision blurred through the tears, and realized that she didn't look angry at all. She gave him a warm look, a comforting one—similar to the one that she had given him after mama died.

He inhaled.

"Sweet, come inside," she whispered. "You're look like you're gonna cry."

She left the basket of wet clothes out on the lawn and directed him to the house.

He had barely made it through the door that led to the kitchen before he started sobbing. He had never cried like this before—his eyes burning with tears, his lungs so deprived of air—he felt like an idiot. Louise had led him into a chair and he could hear his Uncle whispering to Louise, asking what was wrong.

She didn't answer Jack. Instead, she focused on him.

"Come here," she whispered, holding him close to her as if he was a child.

"It's my fault," he finally gasped, breaking away from her embrace, rubbing furiously at his eyes. "He sent her away and it's my fault."

"People do terrible things when they're afraid," this time it was Jack. "Atticus is afraid—he had his mind set—you did nothin.'"

"I shouldn't have done it," he said. "I shouldn't have done what I did but I saw him walkin' there and I was just _so angry_ that I didn't see any other option."

Louise sighed and smoothed down a stray piece of his hair with her palm—he could distinctively remember mama doing that when he was a boy. "What you did wasn't right," she admitted. "But you can't put the blame on yourself. _He_ did this. We're all pawns in his game now."

"I wish I killed him."

"No, you don't."

She was right.

"I'm mad," he said grimly, his voice hoarse. "I'm just _mad_."

"I know, sweet."

"She wouldn't even talk to me." His voice was growing thick with tears again. "I tried to say sorry, I tried to talk to her— "

"She won't talk to any of us," Louise said grimly. _Her_ eyes were filled with tears now. "I can't even comprehend how she feels. I don't think any of us can, sweet."

Perhaps she was right, but that didn't stop him from wanting to try. From wanting to make things better. He knew it was childish, but all he wanted to do was go back in time and just make everything better. When they were younger, it seemed as though all he had to do was say some magic words and Scout's eyes would light up again and everything would be fine and the two of them would carry on as if nothing ever happened. Even after Bob Ewell attacked them, Jem was somehow able to pretend that it never happened. He was somehow able to convince Scout to pretend like it didn't happen.

But they weren't children anymore. They weren't nine and thirteen, oblivious to what dangers the world had in store for them. They were older now, and somehow Jem felt as if he was to blame. He was her _brother_. He was supposed to _protect_ her. And he failed. He failed miserably.

He rubbed at his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've got an idea."

Louise and Jack exchanged worried looks. "I don't think you should do anything hasty," she said slowly, and he waited for her to add the word _again_.

"I'm goin' to the sheriff's office," he said, standing from his chair. His need for revenge and his need to out Hank for what he did was slowly dissipating. He just wanted his sister back. He didn't care if he had to lie and come up with a stupid story. He'd face the punishment and pray that Hank would go away. Then Scout could come back. Then he could fix things, the way an older brother should. Louise looked up to the ceiling as if she was silently asking the Lord to help her and Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll tell the sheriff I was drunk, that I did it because I was bein' an overly protective brother, I'll pay the stupid goddamn fine to Hank, I'll spend a few nights in jail, I don't really care but I'll make this right and then Scout could come back and—"

Louise grasped his hand, her eyes sad. "It's not that easy," she said, a sympathetic smile growing on her face. "Yes, you could go to the sheriff and do all that, but honey, I'm not sure that'll make it right. This isn't something that we can make right with a blink of an eye."

She was right.

He sighed, feeling defeated. "I gotta do _somethin,_ '" he said.

But did he need to do something for Scout, or for _himself_?

"I've said that many times in my life," Louise remarked, her hand still resting on top of his. "But we can't be rash. Sometimes, we gotta let time tell us what to do."

Jem furrowed his brow. "Aunt Lou," he said, staring at her blankly. "You're beginnin' to sound like Aunt Hattie."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Crazy."

Louise rolled her eyes, and it was that moment Jem realized he hadn't seen her do that in _ages_. "Jeremy!" She exclaimed, folding her arms at her chest. "I'm givin' you life advice—"

"You're talkin' crap," Jack stated, making her scoff. "You were never much of a philosopher."

"Fine," she said. "I'll cut the crap. What I'm tryin' to tell you is that for my entire life I was known as the gal who always acted too fast and acted without thinkin,'" she said. "And, in reality, I probably shoulda waited and not acted like some stupid fool, and let things play out before makin' a mess out of everything."

"You're makin' sense now," Jem remarked. He felt slightly guilty for being amused, knowing that Scout was boarded up on some train, miserable. "I don't think I'm being hasty," he added.

"Explain to me why." She demanded.

"Maybe I can get him to go away," he explained. "I can pay the fee, I can face any punishment they give me, and I can then pay him to go away—"

"I can picture your mama rollin' in her grave." Jack said.

He scowled, his face growing hot. "What do you mean?"

"This is all premised on some lie you're gonna tell, first of all," he responded. "You're goin' to barge into the sheriff's office and lie to him. You're goin' to make up some elaborate story and skirt around what's at issue here, not even knowin' if that will get you out of goin' to court or not, and then you're goin' to _bribe_ Hank, who did something horrendous and should be held accountable, to get him to go away. It's not exactly model citizen behavior, Jem."

"He has a point," Louise said nonchalantly. "I know you've got a lot on your mind right now, Jem, but that plan probably won't ease any of your worries."

"And what do you suppose we do?" Jem asked. "You're the one dispensing all of this life advice, so I want to see what _you_ have to say."

That came out a little harsher than Jeremy had meant it to, but if it stung Louise, he couldn't tell. As she opened her mouth to respond, the telephone rang. "I'll get it," she said before scurrying to the other room. He noticed that the only thing she said was: "mmm-hmm, yess'm, interesting…" The next thing he knew, she was standing in the doorway.

"I'll tell you what to do," she said, her arms crossed, a look of amusement on her face. "You're gonna go to court next week. You won't go to the sheriff today."

"And why should I do that?"

"I've heard a little rumor," she said. "Hank's gone."

"Gone?" Jack asked before Jem could even say a word.

She rolled her eyes. "Once a coward, always a coward." She scoffed. "He's as gone as the sky is blue. He won't show up to the court hearing. You could literally say anything you want, but if he's not there to present his side, it'll go in your favor."

"You just said a rumor," Jem said, his mind immediately going to Stephanie Crawford. "Everyone says rumors around here. They're usually never true."

"I trust my source, Jem, so just shut up and do what I say."

"Well, who told you?"

"Sworn to secrecy."

"You're bluffing me." Jem said. "You're lyin' because you think I'm going to do something stupid."

"I promise you, I ain't." She retorted. "Jem, when have I ever led you astray?"

She had a point.

"Never." He said truthfully.

"Then trust me."

So, he did.

-o-o-o-

Louise ended up being right. Though, Jem still didn't know how she knew about this and who told her the news. He showed up to the courthouse the day that he was supposed to. He dressed his best, he practiced what he was going to say. He sat next to Atticus at the defense's table in the courtroom he used to play in as a kid. As he looked at the judge, memories of his childhood came flooding back to him. He remembered hot summers with Dill and Scout. He remembered meeting Hank. He remembered the Tom Robinson case. He remembered growing up.

He sat there, nervously awaiting Hank's arrival. But the time that the proceeding was supposed to start came and went. The only people in the courtroom was the judge and Jem and his family.

Hank never came.

"Well," the judge said, his eyes scanning the room. "It seems as though our time has been wasted. I'm dismissing this."

"But I did it." Jeremy said. "I did beat him up."

The judge looked at him with a curious look on his face. "Why are you tellin' me this?"

"I want to practice the law, sir," Jeremy responded. "And I should be held accountable for what I've done."

He would have done that even if Hank had showed, Jeremy decided. He was going to be accountable for what he had done, was going to show Hank that he could be a man and own up to the damage that he caused. He wasn't going to be cowardly and hide from what he had done, just like Hank had been doing at this very moment.

Jeremy hoped that this would make Atticus proud. That his admission of guilt, that his need for justice, would make his father proud of him.

But his face was blank.

"That's very honorable, Mr. Finch," the judge said. "But, with the plaintiff not here, I'm not wasting my time with a fight between young men. I've seen more important cases than this."

Jeremy felt the hair on his arm stand on end as he clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir." Was all he managed to choke out before they were all adjourned.

Jem was angry. Inexplicably angry. He was mad that Hank did what he did in the first place. He was mad at himself for not protecting his sister, for not being there when she needed him. He was mad at himself even more for losing his anger.

He was mad at Hank for leaving.

It was at that moment, as he stepped out of the courtroom, feeling numb and as though he was underwater, that he realized that there were truly evil people in this world. He had always imagined himself being like Atticus – defending people and doing what was right for the "underdogs." But who would protect people like Scout? Who would seek justice in the face of such atrocity? Who would punish those who broke the law, who ruined lives, who ran from the hell they created?

He would.

"I'm gonna be a prosecutor," he said out loud as they stood outside the courthouse, slowly beginning to walk home. His voice sounded distant, as though he was lifetimes away from his family. Atticus didn't acknowledge the statement and Zandra gave him a quizzical look, but Jack flashed him a smile – the first one he'd seen in a long time.

"Tell me more," Louise said. Her cheeks were flushed, and if Jem wasn't mistaken, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"I might not have been able to help Scout," Jem said, feeling ashamed. "But I can help people in her situation. _Without_ my fists."

It almost seemed as though Louise could not contain her smile. "Jeremy Finch," she said, quickly grasping his hand. "I didn't think you could make me any prouder, but today you proved me wrong."


	16. Chapter 16

She had heard Hank left Maycomb. How, and when, and why he left was still unclear to her, but he was gone. The charges against Jem had been dropped, and everything seemed to be going back to normal in Maycomb.

But she still wasn't asked to come home.

It wasn't like she wanted to go home, anyway. She wasn't sure if she could bear going back to Maycomb, where Alexandra and Jack and Louise tried to fill the air with uncomfortable chatter. Where Jem would sit in angry silence, thinking about revenge. Where Atticus wouldn't look at her.

Though, she couldn't say that living with her Aunt Caroline was much better.

It seemed as though no matter where she lived, she carried the weight and stigma of what happened to her with her. The moment people – whether it be the people in her household, her Aunt Harriet, or her Aunt Caroline – found out about what happened to her, they looked at her differently. Caroline had a sense of sadness in her eyes whenever Jean Louise was in the same room as her. It was as though Caroline was treading uneasy waters, unsure of what to say or do, and would spend most of her time just smiling at Jean Louise.

What made it worse was the fact that it was just the two of them. Caroline's daughter, Ruth, had long since gotten married and moved away from Mobile. She wasn't sure what was worse – the torture she endured in Maycomb, or the torture she was enduring here. Atticus arranged for Jean Louise to go to school in Maycomb – the same all-girls, Baptist school that Ruth had gone to when she was younger. Jean Louise had to wear a uniform and take Bible classes and all of the other girls looked at her as though she was some sort of mutant or something (it probably didn't help that Jean Louise refused to talk to any of them). Then, promptly after school, Jean Louise went back to Aunt Caroline's house where it was just them, sitting in silence.

It was enough to drive her crazy. At least in Maycomb, she had Jem.

Though, she'd never admit that she missed him.

He didn't even call when the case against him got dismissed. Alexandra was the one who called, and quickly told Caroline about it and made up an excuse before Caroline even asked if Zandra wanted to talk to Jean Louise.

Jean Louise couldn't help but to feel hurt by it all.

It seemed as though her family was erasing her from their lives. Was it because of what happened? Is it because of her refusing to press charges against Hank? Why couldn't they see that she was suffering, that she needed _them_? It was as if they all were treating her like some sort of damaged object: disposable and of little importance.

"I've got some mail for you, sweet," Caroline said one afternoon as Jean Louise entered through the door, her knapsack haphazardly hanging off of her shoulder, the strains of the day etched in her face. She had heard the girls at school whispering about her, exchanging rumors about her mysterious appearance into their exclusive world.

If only they knew, she thought to herself.

Jean Louise couldn't imagine who would want to write her. For a brief moment, she felt her heart get stuck in her throat, her mind filled with the (perhaps unreasonable) fear that Hank had somehow found where she was and was taunting her, following her. But he hadn't talked to her in the months following her attack.

He had run.

Instead, she was surprised (almost pleasantly, actually) to see that it was a letter from Jem. He had written _Ms. Scout Finch_ on the envelope, making her almost smile. His name and their new address was scribbled on the top left corner, making her heart ache.

"Do you want some supper?" Caroline asked, though she should have known that Jean Louise would probably say no (she barely ate these days). "I made a pot-pie, it's just about done."

"Not hungry," she responded, holding the letter firmly in her hand. "I'm goin' to read this," she added, waving the envelope in the air before rushing down the hall into her new bedroom.

Everything in Caroline's house was neat and orderly. She had been living on her own for so long that everything in her house looked as though it was in a magazine of some sort, including Jean Louise's room. In fact, when she first came, Jean Louise was too nervous to even _look_ at anything, let alone touch, out of fear that she would ruin the uniformity that her aunt had created for herself. Since moving there, Jean Louise made sure everything was impeccable, despite the fact that Caroline insisted that she could make herself comfortable.

Perhaps it was the fact that this _wasn't_ Jean Louise's home that made her so uneasy.

Jean Louise tossed her bag on the bed and gently sat at the foot of it, examining the envelope carefully before opening it. It seemed like ages ago that Scout was teasing Jem that he should be a doctor rather than a lawyer, seeing how bad his handwriting was.

But in reality, it wasn't that long ago.

Jem, who was usually a man of little words, had written her pages. At first, his handwriting was neat and uniform and he tried to evenly space his lines, to make the letter perfect for his sister. However, as she shuffled the pages, she saw that towards the end his handwriting got messier, and the words started blurring together. She wondered if he was in a hurry when he wrote it, or whether he wrote quickly out of fear that he would lose track of his thoughts and forget what he wanted to say.

 _He-ey, Scout_ ,

She couldn't help but to smile ever so slightly – it was almost as if she could hear him say that.

 _I tried calling you a few times, but Aunt Caroline told me you didn't want to talk. I told Lou about it, and she told me to leave you alone and let you be, that you would talk to me when you're ready, but I didn't want to listen to her. I haven't been doing much of that lately, and I think she's just about ready to chop my head off and feed it to Rose Alymer._

A small noise came from her throat – whether it was a laugh or the beginnings of a crying spell, she wasn't sure.

 _I decided to write instead of call, though. I figured that I could tell you what I wanted to say and you could do whatever you wanted with this. You could read it, spit on it, step on it, burn it, rip it up, or completely ignore it. I guess the possibilities are endless, but I guess the selfish part of me wanted to let all of this out and at least send this to you. What you do with it is your choice._

 _Anyway, and this is kind of hard for me, but I'm sorry, Scout._

 _I'm sorry for a lot of things, really. I'm sorry for failing you, for not being there when you needed me, for making a mess of things. I guess this all really started with Bob Ewell and has been a downward spiral since then. I guess I haven't been as good of a brother as I thought._

She inhaled sharply. Despite how angry she was, despite how abandoned she felt, she couldn't help but to think that he was so terribly wrong.

 _I didn't mean to be angry at you, Scout, for not pressing charges against Hank. I've never been good at feeling things (I think that's something I get from Lou, to be honest). I was just so angry and hated_ him _. I hated him for what he did to you, and I wanted him to be punished. I was so angry I didn't even think of what had happened. I just wanted him to be punished. And I guess that's why I took things into his own hands, and now it's my fault that you're in God-awful Mobile (why you chose to go there, I'll never understand), and I'm going to try to make things right._

 _I guess looking back on it, I regret what I did. And while I am sorry to you for what I did, I don't feel bad for Hank. There's a special place in hell for him, I still stand by that. But, I can't say that I wouldn't do it again. I probably wouldn't kill him, but it felt good rattling him up a bit._

 _But I realized that making him a bloody pulp won't do shit._

 _He left, again. But this time I haven't seen him anywhere near Maycomb. Shortly before my proceeding, Lou got a call from someone saying that Hank wasn't going to show up, that the charges were going to be dropped because of it. I thought she was bluffing, or that Stephanie Crawford told her, but she wouldn't tell me anything else. And she ended up being right. I'm still trying to figure out what happened._

 _As I sat there, in front of the judge, listening to him tell me that the entire proceeding was a waste of time because Hank didn't show up, I realized that I went about this the wrong way. I always wanted to be a lawyer, to be like Atticus. My dreams until now have been fueled by Tom Robinson, by the need to defend those who are suffering because of the legal system, but I realized that my focus has been wrong._

 _I want to be a prosecutor. I want to punish people who do terrible things like Hank did. I want to use the law to protect people like you, people whose lives are destroyed by monsters like him._

 _I don't mean to say you made the wrong decision, though. I'm just saying._

 _I don't know, I think I just miss you, Scout. Nothing is really the same without you. I know that things can't be fixed, that things won't go back to normal, but I like having you around. I'm probably being selfish again, for all I know you're probably having the time of your life there and don't need your stupid older brother messing up your life._

He might have hurt her feelings, might have made her angry, but maybe he did it because he hated Hank, not because he didn't love her. He was right, things weren't going to be normal, but maybe _he_ didn't think she was as damaged like everyone else. She was now getting to the point where Jem's handwriting was getting messy.

 _I've been fighting to get you back here. Especially with Hank probably gone, I think it would be good for you to go home. For you to be back here with us. Even if Hank was here, I'd take you everywhere like those people who protect the President or something. I think I would be quite good at it (I'll only use threats, not actual violence, I promise). You can go to a different school, I can drive you every morning and pick you up every afternoon. That way you can get a fresh start. Maybe that'll do you some good. Plus, Maycomb is far superior to Mobile._

 _Atticus hasn't been talking much these days, he's usually just at work and locked up in his study. Even though he's been acting strange, I think it's because he's mad, too, and he misses you. Lou says people do weird things when they're afraid and thinks that he's just scared. I think this really put him through the ringer (again, not saying this is your fault, I just think it's hard to be a father and things haven't really been easy)._

 _I find myself thinking about what mama would do, but I haven't had anyone to talk about that with. Atticus avoids any mention of her, and Lou has been really shifty these days. Even though she talked about mama all the time, she told me that it's no use to think about it now. She said we shouldn't put our worries on the dead, and that we should focus on what's in front of us. I guess she's right, but I still think about it._

 _I can't really remember if mama was actually wise, or if six-year-old me thought she was the most profound woman in the world. I really wish you remembered her, Scout. I mean it when I say she loved you a lot, and I think that she'd be mighty proud of the person you are._

 _At first, I thought she would have killed Hank if she were alive today, but I'm not quite sure. I remember when I was little and would get in silly fights at school, mama always told me to be a bearer of peace rather than chaos (I guess I failed her, too). She told me lots of other things (I could probably fill a letter just with those sayings), but what I really want to tell you is that I think if she was here things would probably be better. She would be better at comforting you, at being there for you. I'm sorry she isn't here for you, but that doesn't mean I can't be._

 _I don't really know what I'm doing, or what I'm saying. But I guess what I really wanted to tell you Scout is that even though I'm not perfect, I'm always your brother. Even though I'm not good at protecting you, I want to be better. I think I just need some help from you. Tell me how I can be better. Tell me what you need. I might not be able to turn back time or to make anything better, but I want to help you._

 _If you made it to the end of this letter, I'd be impressed. I guess I'm a mess._

 _I might not say it often, but I love you, kid._

 _Jem._

 _If you want to write back, you can. But you know you can always call, too._

By the time she finished reading, tears were streaming down her face. But this time, she wasn't angry at him anymore.

She was sad.

Hank took away more than she had realized. He had taken her self-respect, her dignity, her virginity, and her _family_. But, with Jem's letter, she thought that maybe she could at least get her family back. She may not be the same, and things may never be normal, but maybe she didn't need to lose them, either.

But it was clear now that Jem wasn't going to let himself be taken. She shouldn't have been so surprised, Jem had always been stubborn. She had almost lost him, but he was making his way back to her.

She just had to let him in.

"Jean Louise," her Aunt Caroline called from the hall. Quickly, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and feverishly wiped her face. "You've been awfully quiet, are you alright?"

Scout cleared her throat. "Um, yes'm," she responded, though Caroline could probably tell that she had been crying. "Jem wrote an awful lot."

Caroline was silent for a few moments. "Are you sure you're alright?" She asked. It seemed as though everyone was asking if she was alright.

"Y-yeah," she said, slowly getting off of her bed and opening the door. "Aunt Caroline?" She asked. Her aunt was standing at the end of the hallway, she had been wringing her hands, a worried look on her face. Scout couldn't help but to think that Caroline was lucky that she looked more like Jack than like Zandra, she looked far less severe.

"Yes, sweet?" she asked. Jean Louise supposed it had been obvious that she was crying, because Caroline's eyes widened the moment Jean Louise opened the door.

"I think I'm ready for supper," she said, and couldn't help but notice that Caroline looked relieved.

-o-o-o-

Not only did Jean Louise eat supper with Caroline, but she agreed to play a game of cards and listen to the radio with her. For the first time in a while, it seemed as though Jean Louise was feeling _human_. She even laughed at the stories Caroline told about growing up at Finch Landing. Caroline seemed relaxed and less anxious, and as Jean Louise retired to her room, she heard Caroline phoning Alexandra, a sense of hope in her voice.

Scout read Jem's letter again but hadn't decided what she wanted to do yet. Everything was still so _heavy_. But the arrival of Jem's letter and her evening with Caroline made he realize that ultimately everything was in _her_ control. She was in a unique position – what Hank did to her put both chaos and hope in her hands. She could choose to live in chaos, or she could choose to move on.

She may never be able to make sense of any of this. She may never be able to trust anyone again. She may never be truly happy like she had been so long ago. Even though Hank ruined her life, she was still alive, still breathing.

And she could take her fate out of his hands and into her own.

Instead of running like he did, she could face it.

But she needed help.

But she also needed to admit that she needed help.

It was hard, so frustratingly hard. She couldn't imagine anyone ever understanding her. She couldn't imagine ever having any of her relationships going back to normal after this. She couldn't imagine _herself_ going back to normal after this.

But her misery would never end if she remained complacent.

She would probably never recover fully from this. She would probably always carry this tragedy with her, having it loom over her like some sort of dark cloud.

But that didn't mean that Hank had to win.

Perhaps she could win. Even if he wasn't around, Scout could certainly slap him in the face by rising up and by _living_. In fact, it seemed as though that is what her mother did in light of what Emmett did to _her_.

And it seemed as though Scout had more years left on this earth than her mother did. What a shame it would be to Eugenia's memory if Scout didn't rise up and follow her example.

It was as if her mother's journals came into her life at the time Scout needed her the most. It was as if Eugenia heard her husband pleading with her, asking her to watch over her daughter, and sent her diaries in lieu of motherly advice. Maybe Scout was meant to read about Emmett, meant to see the progression of her mother's life from that terrible event to her meeting Atticus.

Suddenly, she felt herself feeling grateful that her mother kept those diaries.

In a sense of desperation, Scout flung open the chest that sat at the foot of her bed. Despite her anger, despite her feelings of abandonment, Jean Louise had packed her mother's journals with her when she moved to Mobile. At first it was out of selfishness – she wasn't going to let Jem or Atticus or anyone else see her discovery, no matter how angry she was.

Now, she realized she needed them.

She leaned against the wall, stacking the last few journals next to her. She leafed through them, skimming through the moments when she met Atticus, when she got married, when she had Jem, when Lottie died. She read about loss and heartbreak and miscarriages, but at the same time she felt the hope and love and strength that her mother had.

Then something caught her eye.

 _I have a daughter_.

Jean Louise clutched the journal in her shaking hands, afraid that she was going to drop the book.

 _Atticus named her. Unfortunately, the poor girl will suffer with the name Jean for the rest of her life, but the more I think about it, and the more I look at her, I think it'll suit her. Though, I think we need to find her a nickname. Jeremy was afraid of the fact that she didn't have any teeth, but I think he's warming up to her. He even started calling her_ his _baby._

Scout snorted. Jem seemed like such a softy when he was a kid.

 _I find myself unable to stop holding her, unable to stop looking at her. I honestly never thought this day was going to come, and now that it has, I don't even want to close my eyes out of fear of missing anything_.

Scout's heart sank. Unfortunately, her mother had missed _everything_.

 _If you were to ask me ten years ago where I thought I'd be today, I don't think I would have said a wife or a mother. But today, I can't imagine my life any other way. I can hardly a remember a time without Atticus or Jeremy or Jean Louise (that poor baby_ really _needs a nickname)._

There was more written in that entry, but Jean Louise found herself closing the book gently. She gathered the journals and some clothes and shoved them in her knapsack. She slipped on her shoes and slowly made her way down the dark hallway, trying her best not to make a noise. Peering around her, she made sure there were no signs that Caroline was awake before she picked up the phone.

"Maycomb, please," she whispered into the receiver. Her voice was shaking. After a few moments, she asked to be connected to her house. She prayed that the person she wanted to answer the phone was still awake.

"Finch," a familiar voice said on the other line. _Thank God._

"Jem?" she whispered, hot tears forming in her eyes as her heart swelled in her chest.

"Scout?" he whispered back.

"I got your letter, I read it twice."

She thinks he heard him chuckled.

"I'm leavin' Mobile. Tonight. I'm gonna take a train to Montgomery," but she wasn't going to see or stay with Hattie. "Meet me there?"

There was a brief moment of silence. "I'll drive," he finally said. "I'll get there faster."

"Meet me at the station," she said, though she figured she didn't need to tell him to do that. "There's somewhere I want us to go when we get there."

She was going to take them to their mother.


	17. Chapter 17

_Atticus_

Her gaze was enough to pierce a hole through him. Her eyes remained on him, wide and unblinking. It was enough to make him squirm. It was as if she was sitting there, waiting for him to admit that he lost control. That the life he had spent all these years building for himself was unraveling at a rapid pace, and that there was nothing that he could do about it.

But admitting that would mean that he'd have to acknowledge that there was nothing that he could do.

And he wasn't one to admit such a thing.

It was as if every time he tried to pick up a broken piece of his family, it turned to sand and crumbled in his hands. Every step he took to rebuild their life, the more it seemed as though it was falling apart.

He was shutting himself off, trying to protect the members of his family from the devastation that damn Hank Clinton caused them.

But, it wasn't working.

After Scout left, Jem refused to speak to him, and the most his son would do was cast an occasional angry look towards his direction. Jack and Alexandra avoided the subject of what happened the best they could, while Louise visited him daily, demanding he talk about it (after a while he started ignoring her visits).

Scout stopped acknowledging his existence.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by that, though. The little girl who once idolized and cherished her father was replaced by a teenager who felt betrayed by him.

Perhaps he did betray her.

He never took his role as a father lightly, always doing the best he could to protect and teach his children. But he failed, and he failed dismally. He missed the warning signs of Hank, didn't realize what an awful, evil person the boy actually was. And, out of his complete and utter shame, he sent his daughter away.

But it wasn't because he was ashamed of _her_. No, not at all.

He was ashamed of _himself_.

He was a lawyer, damn it. His life embodied justice and doing what was right, but now he _couldn't_ do what was right. At first, he thought he was angry at Scout for not seeing things the way he did, for not realizing that Hank should be punished and held accountable for what he did to her. To Atticus, it was a simple concept—they press charges against Hank for what he did, and send him to jail, and then they could focus on rebuilding their lives.

But Scout didn't want to do it, and Atticus couldn't help but to feel that he had both failed as both a father and a lawyer.

But she was _miserable_. She was _suffering_. And he couldn't bear to watch himself fail more and more each day, couldn't bear to see her fall deeper into a pit of despair. He couldn't live with himself.

So he sent her away.

He thought that perhaps she'd be better off in a place like Mobile or Montgomery. She had family there that loved her, and they were both places so completely far removed from Maycomb that perhaps she'd be able to rebuild her life somehow—in a way that she wouldn't be able to do if she stayed at home.

She'd be better off without him, he thought to himself. Maybe she could even learn to flourish without her failure of a father getting in her way.

But he _missed_ her. Though, he supposed he missed her before she left.

He could still feel her eyes upon him, watching him relentlessly. Finally, he grabbed the photograph of Jean that had been watching him for so long and turned it over. "Stop that," he said quietly.

"Stop _what_?"

Another set of Graham eyes were upon him. Louise leaned against his doorway, her arms crossed and her eyes set upon him. He couldn't help but to be surprised, and he wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there. Looking at her, he couldn't tell what was worse—the smiling eyes of Jean's photograph or the stern look he was receiving from Louise.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

Without saying another word, she crossed the room and sat herself in the chair that was across from his desk, her eyes never leaving him. "You can't stay quiet forever."

"I've got nothing to say."

"I hardly believe that."

"That's not my fault."

She sighed, biting her bottom lip (his breath got caught in his throat—that was something Jean did whenever she was lost in thought). "Well, I've got plenty to say." She told him.

"You're being pretty quiet right now."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing at him. "You're teaching her to run away." She said slowly, as if she was putting great thought into every word she said. He looked at her quizzically. "Scout," she clarified. "You're teaching her to run away."

He didn't respond.

"I was eight when my daddy died, and Jean was ten," she said, although that was something that he already knew. "And the moment it happened, Edie shipped us off. Sent us to some school far away. Then, when Simon died, she shipped us off here to Maycomb."

His eyes flashed to the turned over picture of Jean that sat on his desk. Louise sighed again, and he knew that she was upset.

"I never felt at home anywhere," she continued. "I traveled and moved and never stayed in one place. Whenever something happened, my instinct was to leave because whenever there was a problem I was being sent away. I'm now in a position where I can't bear to handle anything bad happening, I just run. Doing this to Scout will make her feel the same way. She won't think that she has a home to go back to."

"You've been here for years," he pointed out.

"I think about leavin' all the time," she admitted, making his heart drop for some unexplainable reason. "I only stay because I made a promise to Jem and Scout that I'd be here. But I've thought about leavin' time and time again, when Jem had his heart condition, the moment I saw Sc—"

"But you didn't leave." He reminded her.

"Doesn't mean I haven't thought about it," she said, standing up. She turned her back to him, but then slowly turned around.

Before she left, she flipped over the picture of Jean.

She was staring at him again. Though the photograph was in black and white, he could still remember the way her eyes shone. He could remember the golden flecks in her hair. How her cheeks always seemed to be flushed. She was in mid-laugh in the picture—the joy on her face caught for all of eternity despite the fact that his life was crumbling around him.

"For a moment I was glad you were dead," he told the picture, cursing himself for even thinking that. "You'd be ashamed of me now."

Sleep these days was hard to find, but when it did come he was haunted by _her._ She was forever young in his dreams, never growing out of her thirties. In comparison, he was growing older, growing weaker. She never spoke in his dreams, though from the look in her eyes he knew that she was disappointed, that she was angry.

He supposed she had a right to be. He failed to protect her children.

"What a mess we're in," he whispered. "And to think, I was worried about some debutante ball."

It seemed as though lifetimes had passed since Alexandra first proposed that Jean Louise participate in that damn debutante ball. Immediately after Hank attacked Scout, Atticus couldn't bring himself to look at his sister. Somehow, something inside him blamed _her_ for this. It was _her_ who wanted Scout to be in the ball even though Scout didn't want to do it, and that lead Scout to ask Hank to go with her.

Then things got worse.

However, Atticus realized that it wasn't Alexandra's fault, it was _his._ He should have put his foot down. He should have said no to the ball, no to Hank, no to _everything_. He should have protected Scout when she needed it most, but instead he was complacent and let everything happen around him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the picture. Though he knew that there was a living, breathing person that he should be apologizing to instead.

It had been over a month since Scout was sent to live with Caroline, over two months since Hank did what he did (to this day, Atticus still couldn't bear to say what happened aloud), and Scout hadn't called home. Hadn't talked to any of them. Caroline called regularly, giving Alexandra updates that she would then relay to Atticus. He could tell that Alexandra was uncomfortable, he could tell that she wanted him to call Caroline himself and ask for Scout.

But she was too much of a lady to say it. Or, perhaps, this was breaking her heart just as much as it was breaking his and she didn't know how to handle it (his sister, after all, was human too).

For a while, Jem would call Caroline every day, asking to speak to Scout.

And, every day he was rejected.

Despite the fact that he and Jem had barely spoken since Scout left, Atticus could feel Jem's anger radiating off of him. Atticus wanted so much to console his son, to tell him that he was angry, too. But he feared that Jem would push him away, would shut him out.

Atticus supposed he deserved it. After all, _he_ was shutting them off, too.

He just didn't know what else to do. He had failed in all aspects of his life—he failed his children, he failed his family. He lost control of everything and he couldn't bear to show his face to any of them. He let things get that way, and the only person to blame for all of this was _him_. Alexandra always said he never acted like a proper father, had always treated the children like adults, had always been a bit too lenient with them.

It horrified him to know that she was right.

It was infuriating. So incredibly infuriating. With each passing day he was losing his children more and more and there was nothing he could do. Jem wouldn't look at him, Scout wouldn't speak to him – he figured he deserved it, but it still hurt. But, he was never good at showing his feelings. Never good at opening up to other people—he was a man of reason and logic, much more content within the confines of his own mind than in the company of others.

But his family was at stake. He was at risk of losing everything he loved, of losing the life he managed to build for himself after Jean died.

He almost turned the picture over again. Unable to look at his wife smiling up at him—he couldn't bring himself to imagine her face, to imagine what she'd be thinking, at this very moment.

She'd surely hate him, too.

Then, he realized that Louise was not the only one who had grown accustomed to running away. Just because Atticus didn't flee the country any time something bad happened in his life, doesn't mean he was any less absent. It was easy for him to shut himself off, to leave himself alone with his thoughts in an attempt to make some rational decision. He may be physically present, but mentally, he was gone.

But, how else would he have been able to think of the plan to get Hank to go away?

It was ingenious, really. With all of the time he spent at work or in his study, he was able to devise a plan that would be one step at making everything better. He would be one step closer to getting Jean Louise home.

At first, Atticus wasn't sure if he would be able to face Hank again after what he did to Scout. Despite the fact that he was mad as hell by the fact that Jem beat the boy to a bloody pulp, Atticus couldn't help but to be proud.

But, he also knew that this wouldn't drive Hank away.

Atticus had a false sense of hope when Hank voluntarily left Maudie's house after he attacked Scout but dreaded to learn that Hank just found outer people in town to stay with. The boy was manipulative, and Atticus knew that if he didn't get rid of him sooner rather than later, he'd have hell to pay for the rest of his life.

So, Atticus found him.

Atticus didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't what he thought. He had hoped that after doing what he did to Scout, and after getting the beating of a lifetime from Jem, Hank would somehow be humbled by the experience. Changed, even.

But he wasn't.

When Atticus found him, bagging groceries at the Jitney Jungle one afternoon during his lunch break, Atticus expected to see a broken man. He expected to see someone full of remorse, to see someone haunted by his actions.

But instead, the bastard _smiled_ at him.

"Hey, Mr. Finch." Hank said, a hint of pleasantness in his voice. Atticus had simply stared at him, his eyes cold and unmoving. He wanted to say _don't you dare talk to me like that_ , but he didn't. People looked at him, surprised that he would show his face to Hank after what his son did.

If only they knew.

"I'd like to speak with you," he said calmly, almost pleasantly. "Once you finish up here, let's go to my office."

The boys smile didn't falter, but Atticus could almost smell the worry emanating off of him. "Sir, I'm not finished until—"

"I'll wait here until you're done," Atticus had said, a small smile on his face. "This is an important conversation."

And he watched Hank. He watched him bag groceries and talk to customers and act all dandy and pleasant. Atticus had to stop himself from shaking in anger. Hank was allowed to have his life continue on as normal while Jean Louise was becoming a shell of the vibrant girl she had been before she met that blasted boy. Finally, Hank began to grow uneasy under Atticus' gaze.

"I can go with you now, sir." He finally said, as though he was admitting defeat in a battle he thought he was going to win.

The two of them were silent during the short walk from the grocer to his office. Atticus stood tall, unwavering in his determination to get that boy out of here. Hank looked unaffected, but Atticus hoped that by the end of this conversation, he'd send the boy running.

He sat across from Hank, his eyes staring into the boys as intensely as Jean's picture was looking at him now. The boy stared back, and although Atticus could sense his discomfort, he tried his best to show that he was not going to back down.

"I-I won't drop the charges," Hank said.

"I don't care what you do," Atticus had said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "I just wanted to see if you could look me in the eye."

"I am, sir." Hank said, folding his arms. "Honestly, _I'm_ surprised that you can look at me after what Jem did."

Atticus almost laughed, but he didn't. If he knew he could get away with it, he would have killed Hank then and there. "I'm not my son," he said simply. "And to be frank, I was quite impressed with his work."

He always remembered telling Scout and Jem not to fight with one another and with others. He always told them that the use of their fists and violence would never get a point across. But, now that this has happened, he couldn't help but to think that maybe he was wrong. Maybe Hank needed Jem to shake him up a bit.

Hank's brow furrowed. "If you're going to just sit here and—"

"You killed my daughter," Atticus said firmly. "You killed her and you expect my son to just sit by and let you walk around as if you've done nothing? You expect me not to say anything?"

Hank looked traumatized, and Atticus realized that after he left Scout in the middle of the field that night he had no clue what had happened to her. It made Atticus' blood boil. It made him almost murderous. Unclenching his jaw, Atticus cleared his throat. "You may not have _physically_ killed her," he was now gritting his teeth. "But you killed her."

Hank looked confused and opened his mouth to speak. "I don't want to hear you talk right now, and I won't keep you here long" Atticus said slowly, thinking about what he was going to say next. "But I just want you to know something before I let you go." The boy was now downright squirming, unable to maintain eye contact. "I've been in the law for a long time, and I've met people like you time and time again. In fact, you remind me of a particularly nasty type."

A noise had come out of Hanks throat, but Atticus ignored him. "You remind me of a man named Bob Ewell," he continued. "I don't know if you remember him, but he was a real piece of work. Downright the nastiest man I've met, that is, until _you_."

"Sir—"

"Now, I'm not finished," Atticus had said. "Bad things happen to people like Bob, to people like you. I mean, just look at him—he spent years abusing his children, doing horrendous things to them. And then he blamed someone else for it, and _won_ , but do you know what happened to him?"

"He died, sir." Hank said softly, and Atticus could swear that the ass was inching away from him.

"I'm not goin' to touch you," Atticus said calmly. "I just want you to know something—you may think that you got away with what you did. You may think that you won right now, but the story of Bob Ewell should stand as a lesson for you. That you may think you could get away with these things, but your misdeeds are not going to go unnoticed."

Even in the weeks following his conversation, it still gave him a sick sense of satisfaction when he thought of the look of horror on Hank's face. However, Atticus would still admit that he was surprised when Hank decided to leave. By the end of their conversation, Atticus thought that the boy was still going to proceed with his case against Jem and continue to taunt them with his presence in Maycomb.

But in just three days' time Atticus discovered that the boy had left Maycomb, was leaving Alabama.

It was a small success for him.

Next, he needed to get his family back.

"I know what you'd tell me to do," he said to the picture before putting it back in its proper place. With aching hands, he gripped onto his desk as he slowly got up from his chair. "Jem," he called out as he walked down the hall. "I'm going to Louise's house, I'd like you to come."

But Jem wasn't there.

He made his way to the living room, where Zandra was working on some needlepoint. The moment he entered the room, she jolted out of her seat. "Would you like something to eat?" She asked. It seemed that all she was doing these days was asking whether he needed something.

"No, Zandra," he responded. "I'm goin' to Louise's for a bit. Have you seen Jem?"

She sighed, and if he wasn't mistaken there was a look of disappointment in her eyes. "I haven't seen him all day," she admitted. "He's probably over there right now."

"I'll be back soon," he told her. As he was walking out the door, he froze. "You know?" He asked.

"Yes?" She asked, and he could hear the worry in her voice.

"I think some lunch would be great when I get back," he said.

"I'll get somethin' started," she sounded happier, she sounded _needed_.

-o-o-o-

When he knocked on Louise's door, there was no answer. Unsurprising to him, the door was unlocked. Despite the protests coming from both him and Alexandra, Jack and Louise always left the door open in case Jem and Scout wanted to come over. Today, it worked to his benefit.

Rose Aylmer, who was perched upon a counter, meowed at him, but other than that, the house was silent. Jem, Jack, and Louise were nowhere to be found. Slowly, Atticus made his way through the house, hoping to run into _someone_.

Finally, he ran into Louise. She was in the washroom on her hands and knees, her back facing him. She was scrubbing the porcelain tub with a bucket of hot water and bleach next to her. Je _hov_ ah, John Hale!" She shouted once she heard someone in the doorway. "I don't understand how on earth you make this tub so dis—"

She turned and saw that it wasn't Jack behind her. "Lord Almighty," she huffed, throwing her rag in the tub. Her face was red and her hair resembled some sort of frizzy crown. "Remind me to yell at your brother," she told him as she got off of the floor.

"You're not as old as me," he pointed out in an attempt to tease her. "It shouldn't give you that much trouble to get off the floor."

"I'm an old maid," she retorted. "So that automatically gives me everything that comes along with bein' an elderly person such as yourself." She smirked at him before ushering him out of the doorway. "C'mon get out of here before you breathe in all those fumes."

They made their way into the kitchen, and the moment she saw Rose Aylmer on the counter, she groaned. "You git," she hissed, swatting at the cat. Rose Aylmer swatted at her hand. "Suit yourself," she shrugged.

"Where's Jem?" Atticus asked, looking around the room as though his son would somehow materialize in front of them. Louise looked confused.

"Not sure," she said as she grabbed pitcher of water and poured herself a glass. "I think I've been getting on his nerves if I'm bein' honest. Can I get you a drink?"

"Water's fine," he said, and she handed him the glass that she was about to drink from.

"What gives me the pleasure of this visit?" she asked, smirking at him. She moved a book that Jack had left on a chair and made him sit.

"I wanted to ask you about something," he told her.

She looked intrigued. "Well, ask away," she said, smirking.

"Where would you be right now if you weren't in Maycomb?"

"I have a feelin' that's not actually what you wanted to ask about."

"Just answer me."

"Well I can't go to Europe," she said. "Maybe out wet somewhere. I've been north and east and south, but not West. I'd never really have a plan, I just pick a place and go."

"Seems like a stressful life,"

"It was _fun_." She said, smiling. "You know," she said, clearing her throat. "I forgot to tell you something earlier."

"And what's that?"

"I may not have felt at home anywhere," she said, her smile fading. "But the closest thing I've had to home was Maycomb. That's why I haven't left."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Now, what are you really here for?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have a feeling that you didn't just come to talk about how flighty I am." She pointed out.

She was right.

"A while ago," he began, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. "A while ago, you asked me to forbid Scout from seeing Hank, you said you had seen—"

"I thought you told me that Jean told you about Emmett," she said, her smile now completely gone. He saw her hands forming fists.

"She did," he said, confused as to what Louise was talking about.

She sighed, and it looked as though she was just realizing something. "Of course, she never told you what I was thinking about," she said, almost as if she was talking to herself. "We never talked about it again after it happened—"

"After what happened?"

Louise froze, tears forming in her eyes. Quickly, she brushed them away. "We were young," she said, fresh tears threatening to fall. "It was right before we moved to Buford Place to live with grandad," she recollected, rubbing at her eyes again. "Jean must've been eighteen or nineteen, I was seventeen at the most. She decided to go see Emmett sometime after they got into a fight or something, I can hardly remember those details, but I remember I felt uneasy so I followed them all night, making sure that they didn't see me."

She paused to cough. Despite the fact that she continuously wiped them away, her tears wouldn't stop. "I fell asleep," she was sobbing now, covering her eyes with her hands. "It was late and they went to a park and I fell asleep in a bush and the next thing I knew I woke up and he had just _left her there_. He hit her head and God knows what else he did and I had to collect her and take her to Lottie's and I just—"

He inhaled sharply. In all the years that he had been married to Jean, in all of the years that he had known Louise, he never knew that. Jean spoke little of Emmett, and while Atticus knew that the boy hadn't treated Jean right, he didn't know _that_.

Louise wiped her eye and blinked away more tears. "I just," she said, trying to collect her thoughts. "I should have done more for Scout, I should have done _something_."

"It's not on you," he whispered, trying to smile at her. " _I_ should have done something. I should have forbidden her from seeing him, I should have done—"

"I think it's easy for us to say what we should have done,"

"Maybe we should focus on what we have to do,"

"What do you suppose that is?"

"We gotta get Scout back."

Louise's eyes light up and as she opened her mouth to say something, Jack burst through the door.

"Well, well, well," Jack said. "What are we doing here?" At second glance, he looked taken aback. "Are you _cryin_ '?"

"Yell at him," Atticus reminded as Louise smirked.

"Ha! Are you really bein' an instigator?" Jack exclaimed. "Well, I guess I should be surprised, after all I heard it was _you_ who got Hank to leave."

Before anyone could say anything else, the phone began ringing. Louise rolled her eyes. "The _one_ thing I hate," she said as she got up to go get it. "Well, besides Jack leaving the tub a right ol' mess, is this damn phone ringin' off the hook."

"You have no proof of that," Atticus told his brother, who simply laughed in response.

"Zandra, Zandra," Louise's voice was getting louder. "Zandra _calm down_ I can't understand you!"

Louise then went quiet, except for the occasional: "alright." It was as though Atticus and Jack were sitting there for an eternity, waiting for her to hang up.

Finally, she entered the room again. The tears that she had just wiped away had made an appearance, and she looked terrified. "Caroline called Zandra," her voice was shaking, she cleared her throat.

"Scout ran away."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I'm pretty sure that the scene in _Watchman_ where young Jem falls out of the car was with Hank, and not Dill, but I made a minor change because I can.

-o-o-o-

Jem was asleep inside of his car by the time Scout made it to Montgomery. By the time her three-hour train ride was over and she didn't see Jem waiting for her at the station and did not seen Jem waiting for her, she thought that something had happened and he changed his mind.

Then, she realized it was the middle of the night.

She felt a little disoriented. She had decided to leave Aunt Caroline's in a bit of a hurry and didn't quite execute her plan as well as she thought. She had simply grabbed as much as she could fit in her knapsack, wrote a note that said: _thanks for letting me stay here, love Scout_ (in hindsight she supposed that she probably should have written more than that, but she didn't really care about that detail right now). She jumped on one of the last trains going up to Montgomery for the evening and spent the three hours it took to get there reading through her mother's journals and got herself so engrossed by them that she almost missed her train stop.

After scanning the near-empty train station, Jean Louise made her way outside to where the cars usually parked. Almost immediately, she saw Jem's car as well as the silhouette of his sleeping body through the window. Somehow, the sight was not surprising to her.

Grasping her knapsack a little bit tighter, she made her way to his car. Smiling to herself, she hit the window his head was resting against has hard as she could.

"Damn it!" He shouted, jumping up and hitting his head on the roof his car. She couldn't help but to be impressed with herself.

He smiled when he saw her.

When he got out of the car, he went to hug her but as a joke she shifted herself away from him. When she saw the look of hurt in his eyes, she outstretched her arms to her brother for the first time in over two months. "I think it was too soon to be jokin' like that," she admitted. He was nearly grinning.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter than he'd ever done before, and it was in that moment that she realized how much she missed her brother. For what seemed to be so long, Jean Louise was continually pushing him away and convincing herself that she hated him. But she didn't hate him.

She hated Hank.

The brother and sister spent some time looking at each other, almost as if either one could not believe that they were actually doing this. "Are you in a uniform?" He asked, almost laughing.

Jean Louise had never gotten changed after supper. She was so absorbed in her mother's journals up until she decided the leave that she didn't even give herself item to get dressed. "I go to a Baptist, all-girls school," she informed him, making him holler in laugher.

"Oh shit," he said, covering his mouth in an attempt to hind his smile. "I mean, do you like it?"

She scoffed. "Hell no," she responded. "I think they think that I'm some sort of _alien_ or somethin'."

"I haven't told anyone about you secretly bein' a swamp monster, so I don't know how they figured it out." Jem said seriously.

"I guess I stopped being so discreet."

Jem chuckled. "Scout," he said slowly, his tone growing more serious. "Scout, look, I'm—"

"I read your letter," she told him. "You don't need to come to me with your tail between your legs."

"I feel an inch high,"

So often these days she realized that she didn't know what to say. It was obvious that the people around didn't know what to do, that they were also affected by what happened. But _she_ was also suffering. She was the one who had to live with what Hank did to her for the rest of her life, and it made every interaction with other people almost unbearable.

Jem wiped his brow. "Sorry," he chuckled after the two of them sat in awkward silence for a few moments. "I'm glad you asked me to come," it was obvious that he wanted to change the subject, and if she was being honest, Scout was glad he did.

"Your letter made me want to come home," she told him, and a smile immediately started playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I could've brought you home," he told her.

"I wanted us to do something first." She said, walking over to the passenger side of the car. "Are you gonna come or not?"

-o-o-o-

They sat at their mother's grave for what seemed to be ages. It had been dark when they got there, but at this point the sun was well over the horizon. Originally, Scout was going to tell him about the journals, was going to pull them out and show him them, and finally share with him the experience that she had been having with Eugenia.

But she changed her mind.

When she was little, she used to be so envious of Jem. It seemed as though Jem had a lifetime with their mother (though when she thought about it now, she realized that Jem relatively no time with her either). He remembered what she looked like, what she sounded like, how she acted, how she loved them. Jean Louise had no memories. In fact, she had nothing except the stories that family members told her. One time, when she was five, she thought that everyone was lying to her about her mother – that every story was something false because she wasn't wise enough to know the difference. She didn't have that first-hand experience, she didn't have those personal memories of her mother – but those journals gave Scout something close to that.

And she wasn't quite ready to share that with Jem yet.

"We haven't been here for a while," Jem said, pulling some of the weeds that had grown around their mother's tomb. He got himself up and did the same to the graves of Edie, Charlotte and Simon. It felt weird to Jean Louise to think that there were actually decomposing bodies underneath her.

"We should probably come more," Scout pointed out.

"I don't think Atticus likes comin' here much," Jem said. "And as you can see, he doesn't like showin' emotion too much."

Scout sighed. She hadn't talked to her father in almost a month for that exact reason. "Did you know he talked to mama's picture?" She asked, almost as if she was still shocked by her discovery.

"He's been doin' that since she died," Jem said. "I heard him doin' it when I was about seven. He does it every night—I think he talks to her instead of prays now."

"He's been doin' it my entire life," she remarked. "How did I not notice?"

"He's pretty quiet about it," Jem shrugged, throwing the weeds he pulled to the side and sitting down next to her. "I had a nightmare or somethin' one night and went to get him, that's why I caught him."

"He must really have loved her," she said, looking at the smooth stone that marked her mother's grave.

"He still does."

"What do you think she would have done?" She asked slowly. "About Hank?"

"You know," Jem said slowly. "I've been thinkin' about that myself, but I feel like your impressions of a person when you're little is different than who they actually are. When I was little I always remembered thinkin' that mama was a saint or something. She just seemed to _glow_. She was nice and kind and always knew what to do, but…" He trailed off.

"But what?"

"But I think that she would be just as lost as we are." He finished. "You were her baby," he explained. "I think if she lived through what happened to you she wouldn't be as saint-like as I thought she was."

"Do you ever wish she was here?"

"All the time," he responded. "Do you?"

"I think so," she said. "I just want to see what she was like for myself." Part of her felt a pang of guilt for not telling him about the journals.

Jem chuckled to himself, casting his tired eyes to the sky. "Thinkin' about how Louise is," he said, smiling. "I think mama probably would have gotten to Hank before I did."

Something in Jean Louise believed that. "I also don't think you would have been in mobile if she was here," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think she was better at handlin' these types of things than Atticus is. I think she kept him in check."

"I wonder if that's why he talks to her picture all of the time," she pointed out.

"You're probably right."

It seemed as though the two of them sat there for hours, morbidly laying across their mother's grave and talking. Jem told her about how he found out that Hank wasn't going to be at the hearing (he still didn't know why Hank left, but he was trying to figure it out), and he told her about the hearing itself. She told him about what life was like in Mobile (it was surprisingly slower there than it was in Maycomb), she told him about Aunt Caroline and her new school and how while it was pleasant enough there, she was ready to go home.

For a while they skirted around how both of them were feeling, how Hank destroyed everything, but then she felt her emotions coming out of her like a flood. She started crying, and he tried to comfort her, but somehow, she felt fine. Finer than she had been, at least. It was as though it was the first time in her life that she realized that she had control over her future, not Hank. He may have destroyed her present for a brief moment of time, and she might have thought her future was ruined, but she wasn't going to let him win.

She finally let Jem in. She finally told him what Hank did to her, how she thought it destroyed her, how she wouldn't let herself be destroyed. "You made me think," she said, her voice thick with tears. The two of them were crying now, with Jem feverishly wiping at his eyes so Scout wouldn't notice. " _You're_ going to use your voice to punish people like Hank and to help people like me, and I think I can do the same."

"We can open a law practice together," he said jokingly, sniffing. "Finch and Finch, attorneys at law."

"No thank you," she chuckled. "I think our family has enough lawyers."

"Well, what do you have in mind, miss?"

"I can write or somethin'," she said. "I haven't figured out the details too much yet, but I've always been interested in journalism or writin' _somethin'_. I can put bastards like Hank to shame by exposin' them for what they are."

"I think mama would be proud." Jem said, smiling through the tears in his eyes.

In reality, she wanted _Atticus_ to be proud.

-o-o-o-

When they realized that they had been at the cemetery for _hours_ (it was almost ten o'clock when they finally left), Jem offered to treat Scout to breakfast. It was a little embarrassing when they first entered the diner. The two of them hadn't slept the night before, and she was quite certain that it was obvious she was in the clothes she had been wearing the day before.

She also realized that Jem was still in his sleeping shirt. She was quite certain that people were going to get the wrong impression from them.

She supposed Jem felt the same way. When the waitress sat them down, looking at them with a quizzical glare, Jem chuckled awkwardly. "My little sister surprised me with a visit," he explained to the woman, who did not look interested. "So, I'm treatin' her to breakfast"

"What do y'all want?" The woman asked dully. Scout almost laughed.

After they ordered and the waitress walked away, the two of them burst into a fit of giggles that they tried to suppress. "She probably thought you kidnapped some poor school girl," she said.

"She probably thought that I was your older lover and we were doin' something unsavory." Jem said, making Scout snort.

Scout supposed that if the people didn't give them such weird looks, they would have bene there for hours, just as they had been at their mothers' grave. They drank cup after cup of coffee and barely touched their food, talking about their childhood, where they thought Dill was, and their mother.

They pretended as though this was a diner that their mother went to all of the time when she was younger. They pretended that every person who was in the place knew Jean from years ago and automatically recognized their children.

Somehow, it made them feel closer to her.

The diner, however, was not like their mothers' grave. They were not welcome to sit in there for ages, laughing and talking and reminiscing. Eventually, the two of them figured that they overextend their welcome and Jem quickly put the money he owned on the table before the two of them left.

It was nearly noon.

"Where should we go now?" Jem asked. "Should we drive home?"

"I'm not ready yet," she told him. "Can we go one more place?"

-o-o-o-

The two of them found themselves swinging on the swings at the very park their mother and aunts played at as children. They started off by having a competition, by trying to swing higher and faster than one another. But, when Jem nearly fell off of his swing, the two of them stopped.

Scout laughed. It had been so long since she had done that, and to be honest, it felt good. "D'you remember when Atticus was drivin' me, you and Dill to the Eddy and he hit a bump and you fell straight out of the car?"

"And you and Dill didn't say a peep,"

"I bent Dill's finger back so far so he wouldn't say anything,"

"Atticus looked so confused when I came runnin' up,"

"And you threatened to drown us."

Jem laughed and shook his head. "That seemed like such a big deal back then," he admitted. "But now that I think about it, I miss those times."

"Me too."

"Do you think mama and Louise sat on these very swings?"

"They probably renovated since they were kids," Scout said grimly. "But they probably played around here."

"I wonder what they were like as kids," Jem said. "Remember when Louise told us mama shot a gun and it backfired and it broke her nose?"

Scout smiled to herself. "Remember when Louise said that she was riding a bike and the handlebars fell off and she crashed into a tree and broke her arm?"

"When her and mama ate raw eggs on a dare?"

They sat like that for a while, talking about the various things that Louise had told them about her childhood. They recounted different stories that they had been told by their aunts, their grandmother, and even their father. They then began imagining things, making up scenarios and situations that they thought happened to their mother and how they thought she would have reacted. They kicked their feet in the dirt, sending dust up all around them. It was as if time had been moving quickly around them while

"Scout?" Jem asked.

"Yeah?"

"Like I said, I'm glad you asked me here." He said, a small smile growing on his face. "I haven't had this much fun in a while."

"It kinda reminds me of bein' kids again," she said.

Before Jem could respond, his eyes got wide. "Jem?" She asked.

"What the _hell_?!" He exclaimed.

Someone was running towards them.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I'm feeling pretty wild (and frankly impressed) with having two updates in one day. I had these past two chapters planned out for a while now, and they were pretty easy to write. The next chapter might take a little longer (I won't drop off for a year again I promise), because I'm trying to see just how I want to do it. Also, I'm beyond thankful for all of the wonderful feedback I've been getting from all of you! It means the world to me that almost two years after I started this story, there are still people who enjoy reading it (which makes me really happy I can't even explain).

-o-o-o-

 _Alexandra_

Though she may not admit it, she supposed that she carried a lot of burdens on her shoulders. Much of these burdens, however, were associated with guilt. She also reckoned that she had a lot to feel guilty about, too. It seemed at every which way she turned, no matter how good her intentions were, she was doing _something_ wrong.

It took her a long time to admit that the whole family was in this mess because of her. If she hadn't pressured Jean Louise to participate in the debutante ball, then maybe they wouldn't have been in this mess. Maybe Jean Louise would not have associated with Hank if it wasn't for this ball. Maybe things would still be normal.

She just wanted to protect Jem and Jean Louise, that is all. They were at the disadvantage of not having a mother and having a father that was too modern, that let them do too much. They needed to remember their roots, where they came from. That was what _she_ was for.

And it seemed as though she failed dismally.

She never imagined an hour-long train ride feeling so long. Upon hearing the news that Jean Louise ran away, Jack and Atticus braced themselves for the three-hour trip to Mobile to help Caroline look for her. to bring her home. However, Louise had other plans.

She insisted on going to Montgomery.

Atticus hadn't questioned her, but Jack thought the woman was going mad. While Alexandra couldn't help but to feel the same, she decided that she couldn't let the woman go alone. But, perhaps she was mistaken.

The moment they sat on the train, they immediately started fighting. While the two of them had seemingly buried the hatchet nearly seven years ago at Louise's mother's funeral, the two women still didn't quite see eye-to-eye. Louise was an unmarried woman, living with an unmarried man, who was too wild and anything but a good example for Jem and Jean Louise. While Alexandra knew that Louise had the best intentions for their niece and nephew, Alexandra couldn't help but to think that they were faulted and misguided.

At first, and Alexandra is almost ashamed to admit this now, she almost thought that Louise was the root of the family's problems. Jean Louise idolized the woman, and Alexandra just didn't understand it. As a result of that, Jean Louise was very much like her maternal aunt—brash, impetuous, flighty. Alexandra thought that perhaps Hank was able to take advantage of Jean Louise in the way he did because she was so much like Louise and didn't take any of Alexandra's advice.

However, when her thoughts went that way, Alexandra couldn't help but to feel some sort of shame.

They were only halfway through the trip, and Louise refused to look at her. If Alexandra wasn't mistaken, she had made the woman cry within the first ten minutes of the trip. She hadn't meant to, she was trying to be truthful.

"That poor girl never had a maternal influence at all," Alexandra had lamented when the first boarded, making Louise sit up a little straighter. "If only she had a proper upbringing, maybe—"

"What are you talking about?" Alexandra had sensed that Louise was angry even before the train had started moving. Alexandra was probably the last person on earth who Louise wanted to be with at this very moment.

"You certainly know what I'm talking about," Alexandra said. "Jem and Jean Louise have been running around like vagabonds since Jean died, and if they had just had a proper upbringing, I feel like we wouldn't be in this mess."

The way Louise's face had contorted made it look as though she ate something incredibly bitter or sour. "You can't be serious," she said, shaking her head. "You can't tell me you are serious."

"I am serious," Alexandra said, getting annoyed by the fact that the woman was being so difficult (but being difficult was in Louise's nature, she always had to have the last word). "If they had a proper maternal influence, they would be—"

"What about me?!" Louise was nearly shouting, her fist pressed against her chest. "Jehovah, what about _you_!? She had both of us!"

"You made sure that wasn't the case and you know it," Alexandra said, scoffing. "The moment you came into town you captivated and enchanted them and made sure that they didn't want anything to do with me."

Louise rolled her eyes. "You can't seriously tell me you're blaming me for you having the personality of a cactus," she hissed. "If they didn't want to have a relationship with you, that's on _you_ , not on _me._ "

"You've pitted them against me from the beginning, don't you lie." Louise looked insulted.

"I've done no such thing,"

"I understand that you loved Jean very much and that you love those children, but I love my brother and Jem and Jean Louise just as much as you do, and frankly it ain't fair the way you treat me." Alexandra said. "You come waltzing in with no family and no responsibility and of course the children are in love with you because you're just all fun and let them romp around. You don't have a maternal bone in your body and you know it, and now we're in this mess—"

"So it's my fault," Louise said. Her voice didn't sound quite like hers. Her eyes were wide. "It's my fault this happened?"

"I didn't say that,"

"You insinuated it."

"I'm just sayin', you didn't care about morals or propriety or manners or anything, and it made Jean Louise think that she could associate with someone like Hank—"

"I didn't want her to be with him just as much as you," Louise retorted, her face growing red. "I tried to convince her—"

"But how can she take you seriously if you don't take yourself seriously?"

Louise's eyes were shining and her chest was moving up and down quickly, as though she had just been submerged under water and was struggling to breath. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Don't talk to me."

That had been twenty minutes ago. Since then, Louise sat in the seat across from her, her face pressed against the glass of the window, her eyes clenched shut. Alexandra hadn't meant to hurt her, but she couldn't help but to think that there was some semblance of truth in what she had been saying. It was true that Jem and Jean Louise preferred Louise to Alexandra, and while Louise certainly loved her niece and nephew, Alexandra just could not see how Louise could teach them the things that a young man and lady were supposed to know.

All their lives, Alexandra thought that she only had the best of intentions for Jem and Jean Louise. Yes, she may across as stern and cold, but she just wanted to make sure that the Finch name continued to be the respectable name that it has always been.

But things were so far out of control.

Alexandra was always a person who needed things to be in control. She thrived with order, with discipline, with rules. But now it has seemed that one Hank Clinton came in and threw all of that away. He had tarnished everything that she, that the whole family, worked to build.

And she didn't know how to handle it.

Maybe it wasn't Louise's fault, maybe it wasn't even her own fault, for attempting to step in the place of a deceased mother. Maybe it wasn't Atticus' fault for being unsure how to father two young children alone. It certainly wasn't Jean Louise's fault.

It was Hank's.

That boy, Alexandra had always known, was trash. He was crude, improper, lacked any social skill, any sense of decency. And now he went ahead and did something so evil, so incomprehensible, that Alexandra didn't know how to handle it. The entire family didn't know how to handle it.

Though she tried to stop them, she couldn't prevent the tears from falling down her cheeks. Quietly, she attempted to wipe them away.

"You actually look human when you cry," Louise said, and it seemed as though she gave her comment second thought. "Not that you didn't look human before," she added.

-o-o-o-

The rest of their journey to Montgomery remained quiet and tense. When they were finally deposited at the train depot, Alexandra realized that she didn't even know what they would be doing here. "Louise," Alexandra said slowly. The woman looked defeated.

"I just know we had to come here," Louise said, a look of desperation in her eyes.

The two women decided to walk to Harriet's house, to see if by some miracle Jean Louise turned up at her other aunt's house. While the walk was short, it felt like an eternity to Alexandra. Louise remained silent and a few steps ahead, leaving Alexandra feeling as though she was trailing behind, like some sort of lost child.

Needless to say, Harriet was beyond surprised to see a morose Louise and Alexandra at her doorstep. Almost unsurprisingly, Jean Louise had not made an appearance at Harriet's house. Her eyes filling with tears once more, Louise nearly threw herself onto her sister's sofa. "I'm a fool," she said, raising her arms in the air. "I'm a damn fool."

"Come on, now," Harriet said, nudging her sister's leg with her foot. "Get up, we'll go look."

"I don't know why I thought she'd be here," Louise sniffed, unable to look both Alexandra and Harriet in the eye. "I'm wrong, I wasted all this time—"

"You might not be wrong," Harriet said. "You could be right but we just need to do some searchin'."

"What if somethin' bad happened?" Louise was _sobbing_. Her hands covered her eyes as her chest heaved in and out. For a moment, Alexandra thought that she was going to give herself another heart attack. "What if her body is in some ditch in Mobile somewhere—"

"I'm sure that's not the case, Lou," Harriet tried to reason, tears forming in her eyes. "You just need to get up and we can go look—"

It was almost as if Louise, who was usually pretty composed, always willing to act, was rendered immobile by some inexplicable force. "I don't know why I came here," she sniffed, shrugging. "I don't have a maternal bone in my body, I don't understand why I thought I knew what to do because I don't—"

Harriet smacked her sister on the side of the head as hard as she could, startling both Louise and Alexandra. Alexandra's eyes shifted between two women as they stared at each other. Louise's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open. " _Hattie_ ," she said, shocked, putting her hand to the place on her temple where Hattie had hit her.

"Get _up_ ," Harriet said, crossing her arms. "You came here for a reason, and we're gonna go look."

-o-o-o-

The three women had walked around Hattie's neighborhood, walked around the neighborhood that the Graham girls had grown up in, and even made their way to the cemetery where their family plots were.

There was no sign of Jean Louise.

"We should go into the city," Alexandra suggested, and much to her surprise the two Graham girls seemed to agree with her. "We can ask in shops and other places."

And so, that's what they did.

The first place they went into was a diner. Alexandra was usually against diners, believing that her own cooking was far better than something like this, but she thought that this was a place that Jean Louise might be. The diner was a little busy, but upon looking at all of the occupants, Alexandra determined that she couldn't find Jean Louise.

"Excuse me," Alexandra said to a woman who worked there. "We're looking for our niece."

"Well, what does she look like?" The woman asked impatiently. Alexandra thought she was rude.

"About this tall, dark hair almost at her shoulders, probably has bags under her eyes—"

"Was she in a school uniform?"

The three women gave each other perplexed glances. "Does she wear a uniform?" Louise asked her, as Alexandra tried to remember any detail she could.

"She might," Alexandra responded. "Caroline had her goin' to a Baptist school, they might have uniforms."

"She was with a boy," the waitress said, rolling her eyes. "He was in a sleep shirt still and the two of them looked as though they were up all night and he made some weird comment about how she was his sister and she dropped by for a visit—"

"Jem! Was his name Jem?" Harriet asked.

The woman gave the three of them a dirty look. "I don't know either of their names, I just know they were strange." The woman responded. "She did leave a knapsack in her booth."

"Can I see it?" Louise asked. Shortly after, the woman thrusted the knapsack in Louise's arms, making it evident that she didn't want anything to do with them anymore.

"Now either get something or get out," the woman said.

"Oh, go suck an egg you witch," Louise smirked before nearly darting out of the diner. Alexandra couldn't help but to think that maybe Louise spent too much time with Jack – that was something _he_ would have said (although probably not in this situation).

In the middle of the sidewalk, Louise tore open the knapsack. She took out layers of clothes and thrusted them in Harriet's arms. "I don't know if these look like her clothes," Louise muttered before pulling out a book.

The book was beautiful. It was a delicate, leather bound book that looked as though it belonged in an old library. From the look of the bulging knapsack, Alexandra assumed that there were other books shoved in the bag. Louise opened the book quickly, and part of Alexandra couldn't help but to think what the consequences would be if they were going through some stranger's bags.

But then Louise started laughing.

After a short while, it seemed as though the laughs turned to sobs, and after taking a second to collect herself, she showed the cover page of the book to Alexandra and Harriet.

Property of: _Eugenia Graham_.

It _was_ Jean Louise.

-o-o-o-

After Louise burst back into the diner, demanded to use the phone, and almost got herself both cussed at and kicked out permanently, they were able to spread the word to Caroline that Jean Louise (and apparently Jem) were in Montgomery. It was twisted to think that Atticus was almost there but would have to turn around almost immediately in order to finally find his daughter.

But at least she was found.

"Now we just have to figure out _where_ they are!" Louise said. Upon finding her sister's journals, it was as if something had reinvigorated Louise. It almost seemed as though she was jumping instead of walking, and there was a sense of determination in her voice. "They have to be around here _somewhere_."

The three of them were walking around a town square of sorts. There were benches and grassy areas and Alexandra was frankly surprised to see how relaxing it was in this area. She always associated Montgomery with the filth and chaos of a city, but she was actually pleased with what she was seeing.

"There's the park we always used to play at," Harriet said, pointing in its direction. It wasn't too far away, and Alexandra could make out the figures of children playing on the various playground equipment. "We can check there."

Alexandra and Louise agreed, with Louise charging ahead of the two of them.

Then, as they got closer, Louise stopped dead in her tracks.

"You've got to be _shitting_ me," she said. "You've got to be shitting me."

"What?" Harriet nearly shouted. "There's children around—" she stopped dead, too.

On the swings were Jeremy and Jean Louise.

Louise thrust the knapsack in Harriet's arms, and started running at them.

-o-o-o-

"Are you two crazy?" Louise was yelling. Her hands were on her head, as if she was about to rip her hair out, her eyes were wide and wild. Jem and Jean Louise were still on their swings, their eyes equally wide, a look of shock on each of their faces. When Harriet and Alexandra finally caught up to her (they tried to run after Louise, but the woman was so darn fast), Alexandra was certain that Louise was going to shake both of them to death.

"Aunt Lou—" Jean Louise started. Alexandra noticed how both she and Jem looked exhausted.

"No! No!" Louise nearly shrieked. "I'm not done yet—you both listen to me right now. I almost wanted to drop dead and I can't even tell you how your daddy or your uncle or _your aunt_ ," she thrusted her arms dramatically in the direction of Alexandra and Harriet. "I can't even tell you how _they_ felt. Do you know how worried we were? Do you know that we thought that the absolute _worst_ happened? I don't know what on God's green earth I would do if anything happened to—"

Tears were streaming down her face. Jem and Jean Louise were now off of their swings, looks of guilt embedded in their eyes. "Aunt Lou," Jean Louise said again, coming towards her aunt. "I know I probably didn't handle this right, but I'm fine, and I'm comin' home."

Louise sniffed and rubbed at her face. "God damn," she said, shaking her head. "Come here, you little witch."

She grabbed Jean Louise in her arms, burying her tear stained face in her nieces' neck. Jean Louise, who had also started crying, gripped onto her maternal aunt tightly. Jem shook his head. "You softies," he teased, hugging them both.

All of a sudden, Alexandra felt jealous.

Maybe it wasn't Louise who didn't have a maternal bone in her body.

Maybe it was _her_.

How else would Louise have known that Jean Louise was there? How else would she have been to find her? Why else would their niece and nephew come to _Louise_ first?

Because she was they never had.

Alexandra almost started crying, though these were selfish tears. These weren't the tears of relief that Louise was crying, but these were tears of jealousy, tears of envy. Those children _always_ loved Louise more—but now Alexandra realized that maybe Louise deserved it.

But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt Alexandra any less.

"Aunty," Jean Louise whispered before wrapping her arms around Alexandra's neck. Alexandra at first was taken aback, and it took her a few moments to register what was happening and wrapped her arms around her niece.

"I missed you, sweet." She whispered.

-o-o-o-

Before leaving, the four of them ate a quick meal at Harriet's. Jem first jokingly offered that they go back to the diner, on his treat, and once he heard that Louise was on the verge of being permanently banned from the place, he _really_ wanted to go back. Thankfully, Louise reckoned that she had done enough screaming that day and settled for a quick meal with Hattie before they left.

Alexandra was able to touch base with Atticus before they left. He and Jack had just arrived in Mobile and discovered that Jean Louise was safe and sound, and because of his rheumatoid he decided to stay the night at Caroline's rather than sit in the car for another three hours.

But Alexandra _knew_ from the tone of his voice that home was the only place he wanted to be right now.

Since he had brought his car, Jem offered to drive them home. Louise, much to Alexandra's delight, refused to let him drive an hour without a full night's sleep. Much to Alexandra's anxiety, however, Louise insisted that _she_ drive.

"Jack taught me!" she exclaimed, grabbing the keys from Jeremy. "We'll be just fine."

"Somehow that makes me even more nervous," Jean Louise said. "He drives like a mad man."

"To his defense, he is a mad man." Jeremy pointed out.

"I'm not _that_ bad," Louise insisted. "I mean, we won't _die._ "

"Whether y'all get home in one piece or not is another story," Harriet retorted before hugging them all (even Alexandra) goodbye.

Almost as soon as Louise started driving, Jeremy and Jean Louise fell asleep in the back seat. Alexandra couldn't be shocked by that—the two of them had been running around for all hours of the night. How they didn't pass out earlier was a mystery to her. Louise and Alexandra were left in awkward silence, interrupted occasionally by Louise humming something under her breath.

Alexandra cleared her throat.

"Sorry," Louise muttered. "I'll stop that."

"You can keep goin'," Alexandra said. "I just wanted to say something to you."

"And what's that?" Louise asked. "Are you goin' to make a comment about how I told that woman to suck an egg? Or how I was screaming in the middle of a park like an unladylike lunatic?"

Alexandra supposed she deserved those backhanded comments.

"No," she said slowly. "I just wanted to say that I might have been wrong,"

"Might have," Louise chuckled.

"I think you do have at least one maternal bone in your body." Alexandra responded, making Louise laugh out loud.

"I think you've lost your mind," she said. "That was the one thing I agreed with you on."

"Well, you're wrong."

"How do you suppose?"

"You found Jean Louise,'

"Lucky hunch,"

"They _ran_ to you,"

"Actually, I ran to them."

"But they weren't taken aback by it," Alexandra said. "It's like they wanted it to be you coming at them."

"Doesn't mean I'm mother material."

"You're the closest thing to a mother they ever had."

"They had you, too."

"They don't love me like they love you."

Louise paused, unable to come up with a quick response like she had been before. Alexandra didn't notice this until now, but there were tears forming in Louise's eyes again. "Maybe they just love us in different ways." She offered.

Alexandra decided that she would like to believe that.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Alright, so I lied, this chapter came faster than I thought. I'm currently on Spring Break but I haven't done any of the school work that I should be doing and was originally going to spend the day doing that. However, this story was just _looming_ over me, and I _needed_ to finish it. It's been almost two years since I started it, and to be honest, I think I lost touch with a lot of what I wanted to happen with this, but I'm still quite proud of this work. Again, I'm deeply appreciative for everyone who has stuck around and enjoyed this. Finishing this story has made me realized how much I've missed writing in this fandom. There may be more coming from me (back in the day I actually had a follow-up for this planned), but right now I'm still a little uncertain (I'm afraid my well of stories might be running dry). This was challenging and at the same time fun to write, and I'm beyond grateful for all of your support!

-o-o-o-

Scout was almost glad that they had moved. When all of the chaos from her running away from Aunt Caroline had subsided, it was almost as if Scout had a clean slate to return to. Everything looked different, looked clean, and it was almost as if the memories of their old house had been wiped away. It wasn't as if she'd forget the house she grew up in, forget the memories she had collected her entire life, but it was surprisingly easier for her to detach herself from everything because she wasn't continually being reminded of what happened with each and every turn she made. Everything was new, and it surprised her how much of a difference that made.

Of course, she often found herself longing for her childhood room. She longed for the comfort of the patterned walls of her bedroom, of the small messages that she and Jem etched into various walls throughout the home. She missed the distinct smells, the creaks that different floorboards made. Everything here was fresh and quiet, and sometimes even the newness of the place could not stop the silence from getting to her, from attacking her and making her vulnerable.

But she figured that a part of her would always be vulnerable. She may be able to armor herself and build up walls and shield herself from future harm, but there would always be a part of her that was damaged by this, that could never be repaired. There was something that Hank took that she could never get back and no matter what she gained in her life, there would always be a small hole in her, representing all that was lost.

But maybe that made her unique, maybe that could help her win.

She was given the option to go to a different school across town, to start anew. While she was tempted, she ultimately decided against it and went back to the school she had attended at the beginning of the year. She was behind and she struggled, but that didn't stop her from working _hard_. People whispered as she walked by, gossiped and talked, made up theories as to what happened to the elusive Jean Louise and why she disappeared for almost two months in the middle of the school year.

In the past, she supposed, their words and chatter and stares would have gotten to her, would have made her tick. If she was still her old self, perhaps she would have tackled them, beat them up just as she used to do as a child on the schoolyard. Perhaps she would have responded with a sarcastic remark or hurtful words.

But that wasn't her anymore.

It would probably take her a while to find her fire again, but she would rather die than let Hank take that from her, too. But she wasn't so inclined to fight fire with fire anymore. She was different now, perhaps calmer.

Almost losing everything does that to you, she supposed.

Upon returning home, her days became mundane. She'd go to school, come home, do her homework, help Alexandra around the house, and repeat. On weekends Jem would take her out, whether it be to a motion picture or for something to eat. Occasionally, she'd spend time with Jack and Louise, lounging on their couch reading with them or playing with Rose Aylmer. But, other than that, she had very little human interaction.

And that included with her father.

Of course, Atticus was excited to see her daughter, especially after worrying that she was dead in a ditch somewhere in Mobile. Upon his return to Maycomb after going to look for her, he hugged her for a long time, but was silent. That night, the entire family ate dinner together (even Alexandra and Louise, who had apparently gotten into a fight on their way to Montgomery), and Atticus even laughed as Jem, Scout, Louise and Alexandra told the tale of the woman at the diner how she seemingly hated all of them. After supper, he even retired to the living room to listen to the radio and read the paper (which he hadn't done for the longest time), and Jem and Scout followed with books and magazines.

It was just as if they were kids again, sitting at their fathers' feet and reading with him.

But that was nearly a month ago.

Now, Atticus Finch had always been a quiet man. He was reserved and introverted, but he was never _this_ quiet. It was better than before, Scout couldn't help but to think, but he still wasn't the same. Yes, he'd eat with his family, talk about work, ask them about their days, but conversations were limited to that. It was almost as though he was trying to forget everything that had happened in the past few months.

Deep down, Jean Louise couldn't blame him—she would want to do the same. But it still made her sad, made her think that he would never talk about what happened, would never have the same relationships with her (and even the rest of his family) again.

She sought solace in her mother's journals.

She hadn't even realized that she had left her knapsack at the diner in Montgomery until she saw Harriet coming towards them in the park. In hindsight, part of her was grateful that she had left it because it led her aunts to her. However, another part of her was terrified by the prospect that she would have to share the journals with Jem or admit to her aunts that she had taken them and was reading the inner-most thoughts of her dead mother.

But no one said anything. Upon returning to Maycomb, Louise simply returned the knapsack to her. Though, if Scout wasn't mistaken, there was a small smile on her aunt's face.

In the weeks that have passed since coming home, Jean Louise returned to her mother's journals like a prodigal daughter returning home. She continued to hide the journals in a drawer in her room, unwilling to risk anyone asking about them. To her, these journals were something special, something that were _hers_ , and even though part of her still felt as though she was violating her mother's privacy, she couldn't stop herself from reading them.

And thanks to those journals, that is how she learned something about her father, too.

Apparently, Scout's birth was the cause of much controversy for Eugenia and Atticus. Throughout Jean's journals, Scout could see just how desperately she wanted another baby. It wasn't as if Atticus didn't want his second child, but he seemed to be more cautious than his wife, more afraid, even.

But he wouldn't open up to his wife about it.

Jean Louise could not help but to be relieved by the fact that her father could also be emotionally distant from his wife. For days on end, Eugenia wrote about how she didn't know how to reach her husband, how she didn't know how to get him to talk to her about what was on his mind. Some days, Jean Louise could sense her mother's frustration with her father because of how hard she had pressed the pen into the paper. But finally, she had gotten through to him.

She just needed to be persistent.

Scout's heart ached for Atticus as she read her mother's journal entry that described his worries, his fears. His mother had died having Jack, and he had the fear that the same fate would come to his wife. He was unable to enjoy one of the happiest moments of his life because of his crippling fear, and what made it worse was the fact that he was unable to communicate that fear to his wife, leaving him virtually alone.

It reminded Scout of what he was doing now.

She shut the journal and shoved it under her pillow before striding towards her father's office. The door was cracked enough for her to see that despite wearing his classes, he was holding his book close to his face. She almost laughed, he'd taken to doing weird things in his old age.

She opened the door.

He jumped slightly at the arrival of his unexpected visitor, almost dropping his book. Clearing his throat, he gingerly placed the book on the desk. She sat down across from him.

"Yes?" He asked.

"I want you to look at me," she told him, her voice strong.

"I am, Scout."

She swallowed. "I want you to look at me and tell me what's wrong."

He shrugged. "Why, I suppose nothin's wrong." He responded.

She exhaled. "We've barely talked for three months," she told him. "And I miss you."

He cleared his throat, the expression on his face unchanging. "I'm right here, Scout."

"But you're not," all of a sudden, she wanted to go back to her room, to grab the journal, to show the entries in which her mother talked about how often her husband was emotionally distant, about how he worried her because of how hard it was for him to open up to her. She wanted him to read those words and she wanted to tell him that he was still exactly the same, but she didn't. "You don't talk about anything. You work, you come home, you read, and you talk about stupid things like the weather and superficial—"

He was laughing. He was actually _laughing_. A smile had grown on his face, and it was almost as if he was trying his best not to laugh at her but was failing.

"I don't understand how that's funny."

His smile grew. "My God," he said, his eyes cast upon her. For the first time in a long time, her father didn't look expressionless or devoid of all emotion. "If only I could time travel, I'd show you just how much you are actin' like your mama."

Jean Louise froze. It was almost as if he was reading her mind. "What do you mean?"

"I suppose," he said slowly, the smile fading from his face. "I suppose that I'm not quite skilled at being emotionally aware."

"It seems as though your pretty self-aware, though."

He chuckled again. "But it seems as though I've grown quite skilled at infuriating the women in my life."

"Are you goin' to stop laughin' at me and listen to me,"

"I'm all ears, sweet."

"I'm angry at you," she said slowly, swallowing back the tears that were threatening to form. The smile had fully faded from Atticus' face, and instead he sat there, looking at her intently. "I'm angry because you shut yourself off at the moment I needed you the most. You wouldn't look at me, you wouldn't talk to me, you _sent me away_ , when all I wanted was _you_." She was crying now, the fears and sadness and frustrations of the past three months pouring out of her. "You're the only person in my life who could fix things but when I needed you, you pushed me away. I felt like it was my fault, like I did something wrong, like I was ruined in your eyes and yet all I wanted was _you_."

Atticus blinked, pursing his lips. She was nearly sobbing now, nearly hyperventilating.

And he was _silent_.

"Are you not goin' to say anything," she was nearly yelling. She wanted to shake him, wanted him to say something. "Are you just goin—"

"I sent you away because I couldn't look at myself." He told her, his eyes were dry but his voice was weak. "I sent you away because I was ashamed of myself and how I couldn't fix anything. I thought you'd be better off away from here, better off away from _me_."

"Well, I'm not." She sniffed, rubbing at her face.

"I can't tell you how many times I wanted to die since Hank did what he did," he sounded angry now, and it was honestly a side of her father that she had never seen. The man was usually calm and rational, and he was now sitting before her with his jaw set and fists clenched. However, somehow, she could tell that the anger wasn't directed at _her_. "I've failed," he told her. "I've failed you, and I couldn't live with myself for doing that. I thought I'd cause too much damage, would just continue to fail you—"

Jean Louise was sobbing again, not bothering to wipe at her eyes. Atticus looked at her, a look of pure shame in his eyes. "Jean Louise," he said, his voice full of dread. "Jean Louise, I'm _sorry_ —"

"I just want you to talk to me," she said, sniffing. "You're the one person I need the most and I just want you to talk to me. I felt like such a fool when you cut yourself off, when you stopped talkin'—"

"You still need me?"

"Of course I do."

"Even now?"

"Especially now."

She didn't expect this, but her father looked relieved. It was almost as if Atticus had himself convinced that his daughter felt as though he had failed her, as though _she_ couldn't bear to look at him anymore. She supposed her father was human too, insecure and afraid (though it was still hard for her to believe that). Slowly (she wondered if his arthritis was bothering him), he stood up from his chair, and he hugged her. It was almost as if the biggest part that had been missing from her life had been returned to her.

From the corner of her eye she saw a picture frame on his desk. It was a picture of her mother on her wedding day. It was quite the beautiful picture, if Jean Louise could say so herself. Her mother's dress was beautiful, her hair was done pretty, and she genuinely looked like it was the happiest day of her life. She supposed that Atticus was still talking to that picture, was still missing the picture of young Eugenia that he had once had. Even without the picture in front of her, Jean Louise could remember the photo perfectly. She could still see the laughter in her mother's eyes, could still see the wild strands of blonde hair framing her face. She had come to understand why it was Atticus' favorite picture.

"I have something for you," she said, swallowing. Wiping her eyes, she darted out of his office before he could even say anything. Back in her room, she flipped the pages of a few of her mother's journals before the picture, now bent and frayed, fell into her lap.

Hiding it behind her back, she came back into the study. "Well, what do you have?" He asked. She noticed that his eyes were wet, and it made her realize just how human her once-invincible father was.

She presented the picture to him.

Honestly, Atticus looked shocked. He took the picture from her hands and examined it, smoothing out the bent corners. "Where did you find this?" He asked. "I thought I lost this."

"O-on the ground," she lied. "I found it on the ground at our old house. I thought Jem took it, since Aunt Lou gave it to us so long ago, but I thought that you'd like to have it." She was such a miserable liar, but it seemed as though she had her father convinced.

"Actually," he said, tucking the picture in the corner of the frame that held the wedding portrait. "I took it from the two of you years ago." He laughed a little, as though he was telling Jean Louise a secret that she had never known before. "I think it's my favorite picture of her."

"It's a nice one," Jean Louise pointed out.

"I wish you remembered what she looked like," he said wistfully, his eyes still looking at the image of his wife. "I wish you remembered something about her."

It made Jean Louise sad to think that she'd never remember any first-hand memories of her mother, though at the very least she was grateful that the woman was so well-remembered by those who loved her who could share their stories with her.

And she had those journals.

"Me too," she said in response, before turning to leave the room.

"Jean Louise?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I just thought you should know," Atticus was nearly laughing again, his eyes finally off of the picture. "If mama was alive today, she would have been sent to jail for murder three months ago."

Jean Louise couldn't help but to smile—somehow, that was something that she was glad to hear.

After leaving the room, she threw herself back on the bed, grabbing the journal she was reading from underneath her pillow. She noticed that after she had been born, her mother had less time to write. Usually, there were quips and paragraphs that detailed how her children were growing, and the different antics that they engaged in. It made Jean Louise smile to think that even though she was only in her mother's life for two short years, she had made her mother happy. For the longest time, Jean Louise couldn't even comprehend believing that she had left some impact on her mother's life, but reading these journals proved otherwise.

 _September 3, 1928_

 _Jeremy started school today. I was a wreck the entire morning—actually, one was to ask Atticus, I was a wreck the entire weekend. It's just strange to think that he was once a tiny baby with no hair and little fat rolls, and now he's a lanky six-year-old who loves to read with his daddy and tell jokes like his uncle. I woke up at nearly four a.m. this morning, and I thought Atticus was going to kill me. I just couldn't sleep, I couldn't help but to wonder if the other children at school were going to be mean to my baby. He's just a special boy, and I can't even fathom any other child being similar to him._

 _It's almost as if Scout sensed my worries. She woke up shortly after I was, but instead of being fussy or sick, she just wanted to be held. Up until her nap in the afternoon, it was like she was attached to me. Her little face rested on my neck, and she actually fell asleep in my arms._

 _She starting to not smell like a baby anymore, and I would be lying if I said it didn't break my heart._

 _I wonder what type of person she'll be when she grows up. She's only two and she's already rough and loves playing outside and doing exactly what her brother's doing. I think she's going to be a little adventurer, I can't see her staying in Maycomb and being a housewife like me for the rest of her life. Frankly, I don't think I want that for her, anyway. I want her to see things, to do things._

 _It's kinda fun, watching your babies grow up. No matter what age they are everything is so new and such an adventure, and each day I'm full of excitement to see what my children get up to. I might not be sure where they'll end up, but all I know is that I wish that they have long and happy lives._

 _I used to think that the world was punishing me. That by letting Simon die I was being punished for something. I would be given something good, but then when I turn around something awful would happen. I used to think that I was only being given something good so that it could be taken away, just like Simon's life had been taken away from him. I didn't think I deserved the good things that life gave to me, that I wasn't worthy of them._

 _But I think I'm wrong. Having Jem and Scout in my life is proof that despite the bad things that have happened, I can still have done something_ good _in my life. Those two children are by far the best things that I could have ever been giving, and they prove to me that my previous feelings about life were entirely wrong. Sometimes I need to pinch myself so that I know I'm not dreaming—not only do these babies call me mama, but I get to sit and watch them grow up and become their own people. I couldn't think of anything better than this._

That was the last full entry that Eugenia Finch wrote in her journal.


End file.
